


Prophecies and Potions

by Angylsmuse, Rina9294



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:25:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 95,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9573776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angylsmuse/pseuds/Angylsmuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rina9294/pseuds/Rina9294
Summary: It's another Draco becomes a spy for the Order story with a slight twist and lots of hot sex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> summoneo (submoneo) -ere to remind secretly  
> Originally posted March 2004.

In the summer between sixth and seventh year Lucius Malfoy finally fucked up. Of course since he was a Malfoy, when he did, he fucked up royally. Voldemort’s chief lieutenant met with a nasty fall from grace when he failed to capture the spy in the midst of the Death Eaters and had actually found himself cast in the role of traitor. The sorry sod actually met with a repeated Cruciatus curse, which finally caused his heart to give out in the end, not the most unpleasant way to die, really, when one considered just what the Dark Lord was capable of.

Voldemort had actually been somewhat kind to his former lieutenant. He’d even been so good as to give Narcissa and Draco something to bury. His body was unceremoniously dumped on the steps of Malfoy Manor. Not that anyone attended the funeral of a former inmate of Azkaban, no matter how old and powerful the family he came from was. Why, Lucius Malfoy was really no better than his wife’s brother, Sirius Black. A common criminal with an old, pureblood name. After all, no sooner had he been acquitted of all charges against him and released from Azkaban then did he go back to being Voldemort’s right hand puppet once more. And he’d expected his only son and heir to follow in his footsteps by towing the ‘party line’ so to speak.

However, if Voldie figured that Draconis Severus Leonis Malfoy was going to play the good son and follow blindly along the moldering pile of decaying flesh had another thing coming. Unlike his father, Draco had brains to go along with the looks. Oh, if Lucius hadn’t been such a prat and had lived, Draco would have joined ‘the family business’ simply because he wasn’t about to lose his inheritance. After all, money might not buy happiness, but it made one feel like they could.

But that was neither here nor there, as Lucius was now dead, and Draco took after his Black mother in the brains department. He wasn’t stupid enough to back a loser, and the very fact that Harry fucking Potter survived time and again was a fairly strong clue that Voldemort was going down sooner or later. Of course Draco realized that insulting the boy who lived wasn’t exactly the best way to ingratiate himself to the side of the light, so he did the next best thing. He threw himself on Dumbledore’s mercy.

And ended up a spy in his own house, much the same way, he found out, that Snape was in the house of Voldemort. Now all Draco had to do was survive the year in Slytherin, and he could tell his former housemates to go stuff themselves up Nagini’s arse and come out of the closet, so to speak, for the side of the light, well okay, not the side of the light but the winning side. Draco Malfoy was many things but a goody-goody wasn’t one of them. He just wanted to be on the victorious side not the one that was bound to get pounded into the muck once Potter finally managed to get it together enough to control his wizardry.

And speaking of, why, oh why, did Dumbledore’s perverse sense of humor have to rear its ugly head by making Harry bloody pain in the arse Potter Draco’s guardian of secrets, his summoneo? The doddering old fool was trying to mend house rivalries, he just knew it, and what better place to start than the second generation of arch rivals - Draco and Potter. Why, their rivalry was almost as legendary as Snape and Black, and almost as lethal!

And Draco couldn’t forget that Harry was Dumbledork’s golden boy, the savior of the wizarding world, etcetera. Maybe the old fool was bucking to have Harry save his ‘soul’ or some such rot. Draco didn’t believe in souls. He didn’t even believe in religion per se. Oh, he swore to ancient deities, to the forefathers of wizardy; he even sometimes took ‘God’ in vain, but he didn’t really believe in all that muggle mumbo jumbo.

The closest thing he could call religion was a belief in reincarnation. Now _that_ he did believe in. When you died, you became a ghost, or you came back as someone else. Of course, like any good Slytherin Draco also believed in keeping his options open, thus the invoking of names, deities and even God. Never hurt to hedge your bet.

But that was neither here nor there. The fact was that Dumbledore figured he couldn’t act for Draco the way that he acted for Snape, and who better to stand in his place to hear the intelligence Draco gathered but Potter, star player in this whole little melodrama. It was almost enough to make Draco think twice about this damned foolish idea of his.

~*~*~ 

"Why me?" Harry asked, aghast, as he stared up at Dumbledore. "I understand why it can’t be anyone from Slytherin, but _me_?" He cast a disgusted look over at Draco, who was standing in the corner.

"Who better than you, my dear boy?" Dumbledore twinkled. "After all, no one would suspect a Gryffindor, let alone Harry Potter of keeping Draco Malfoy’s secrets. Your... rivalry... is the stuff of legend."

"He’s an idiotic git who can’t keep his mouth shut or his nose out of trouble. You might as well let Voldemort fry me now; I’m as good as dead anyway," Draco informed the headmaster and Snape icily, not at all pleased but unable to do a damned thing about it. After all, Dumbledore was calling all the shots, and he knew that Draco knew it. Which meant Draco had to suck it up and live with it. But he didn’t have to be nice about it, oh no, not at all. "I’ll wager he’s going to go running back to the Weasel and that mu..." The sharp look from Dumbledore and the snarl from Potty had Draco hastily reconsidering his words, but one could barely tell his speech was interrupted, "-ugglebornand tell them everything once he’s been dismissed."

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape muttered, "for not keeping a civil tongue in your head in front of the _Headmaster_ ," Snape stressed and then continued more quietly, "and for acting as stupidly as a Gryffindor, rushing into things without thinking them through."."

Harry bristled both at Malfoy’s comment and Snape’s snide remark. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you," he snarled, glaring at the blond Slytherin. "You’d love it if I said something to Hermione or Ron and you got killed because it would give you the last laugh!"

"Awh, is itty bitty scarhead all upset because he’d suffer from a momentary pang of conscience if the ickle nasty Slytherin scum died due to his thoughtlessness?" Draco snarled. "Don’t let it stop you now; it certainly hasn’t in the past.

"Headmaster, with all due respect, I’d rather take my chances alone. I’m well aware that I’ve garnered ill favor because of the behavior I was forced to display for the sake of my late and not so dearly departed father and for others who were and still are keeping tabs on me.

"I’ve no illusions as to what Potter and the others think of me, but then what do you expect from the holier than thou contingent with their moral certitude that they are the only possible people who have had to give great sacrifices for the cause of good? Their sanctimonious superiority makes my stomach heave, and to be quite frank I’d rather trust my life to a bunch of backstabbing traitors I know than a goody-two-shoes who thinks he’s the only one who’s suffered and that I’m the scum of the earth." Draco was rather proud of the way he said the last as if it were merely a statement of fact not something that caused him no end of despair.

‘ ‘"With all due respect for your decision, Headmaster," Snape piped in, "I think perhaps young Malfoy is right. Better the snakes you know not to trust than someone who’s proven himself to not care if you live or die, and has, in fact, stated so on numerous occasions," the potions master continued mildly.

Seething with the sanctimonious drivel Malfoy and Snape were spouting—the both of them, acting as if they were the wounded parties here when all they had ever done was to try to make his life miserable—Harry bit his tongue to keep from letting them have it.

Taking a deep breath and counting to ten, he exhaled, looking at the headmaster and trying to keep his tone calm. "I only asked why you chose me, sir. I never said I wouldn’t do it."

"I chose you, Harry, because despite the differences you and Mr. Malfoy have, you are more alike than not. Now don’t roll your eyes, and you, young Draco, need not make that noise. The fact is you have both lived through great difficulties and come out of them the stronger for it. And you are both leaders of men, young men whose beliefs give them the strength to make difficult choices that may impact the lives of many.

"Think on it long and hard, Harry. If Draco were everything he has made you believe him to be these past six years, why would he choose to spy on his own house and help in the war effort against Voldemort, betraying everything the Malfoy name has embodied for so long? If he were truly such a person, why would he chose the side of the light over the side of the dark where power is so much more easily attainable?

"And while you think on that, Harry, think on another thing. Money doesn’t buy you everything, but it can sometimes be used to cover up some very evil things.

"You must also consider, Draco, that sometimes wounds are not physical; sometimes the greatest hurts can be inflicted without ever laying a hand on a person.

"I have much responsibility to take for the way both you young men were raised. I did what I did for the greater good, and though it was not a fair thing to do, it was the only choice I had. Neither of you is quite what the other perceives you to be. I think that you might be surprised by what you find out about each other," Dumbledore admitted softly.

"Now, Harry, Draco, you have classes to return to. Professor Snape will provide you both an alibi. Draco, you shall be tutoring Harry in potions three times a week and once on the weekend in Professor Snape’s private lab. In this way we can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. You, Harry, shall have the help in potions that you need, and Draco will have a contact outside of Slytherin to monitor his wellbeing. Professor Snape will arrange for the lab and inform you of the dates and times. Now off you go."

 _Oh joy,_ Harry sighed to himself, ignoring Snape’s sneer as he mumbled, "Yes, sir," to the headmaster and walked out of the office, Draco following behind. Once the door was closed, he turned and looked back over his shoulder, wondering just what was in it for the blond to make him do such an out of character thing.

Draco sniffed the air delicately and then wrinkled his nose perfectly, a small moue of displeasure crossing his features. "My goodness, what is that awful stench? Why... I do believe it’s a Gryffindor actually attempting to think!" he continued snidely. "Don’t try to tax your pitiful excuse for a brain, Scarhead; you’ve still got to make it through potions later on," Draco finished with a condescending smirk and swirled past the star Gryffindor with a flourish of school robes that would do Professor Snape proud.

Secretly Draco was simply relieved to be out of there. Confession was tiring on the soul, even if it was purported to be good for it. And then to have Dumbledore intimate that which Draco fought so desperately to hide... it had nearly unhinged him. _That_ particularly dirty little secret would remain his and his alone, thank you very much, Albus Dumbledore!

Raking a hand through his black hair so that it stood up more than ever, Harry reminded himself of what Dumbledore had said and refrained from grabbing Malfoy by the neck and throttling him. All right, if he couldn’t do that, he’d just get his another way—he’d ignore the bastard even if it killed him too.

 

 

Draco gingerly accepted the potion vial that Snape handed him and glanced in the fireplace mirror. He looked like hell. Actually he looked worse than hell. How far the Slytherin prince had fallen, he thought ironically.

"I take it you’ve learned the errors of your ways, Draconis?" Snape chuckled dryly. "Drinking by one’s self only leads to sorry drunken states and hangovers the next morning."

"But he made _Potter_ my Summoneo ," Draco whined. "Why not just hand me over to Voldie right now and put me out of my misery once and for all!"

"Come now, Draco, ,Professor Dumbledore has face in the little prat so we must as well," Severus sneered but then relented a bit. "So Potter is your Summoneo, it’s not the end of the world. After all, the headmaster could have chosen someone like Weasley or Granger. Potter, at least, is bearable."

"Yes, yes, I know. Prince Perfect can do no wrong,etcetera, etcetera. He’s a sanctimonious prat and too damned beautiful for my own peace of mind!"

" _That_ I did not need to know about, thank you all the same. Now drink your potion. You have a tutoring lesson with the heartthrob of the wizarding world," Severus replied with a look of distaste.

~*~*~ 

"But, Harry, having _Malfoy_ tutor you? Bet you a galleon he teaches you everything wrong so you fail," Ron muttered as the pair of them walked the hallways toward Snape’s classroom. "Why couldn’t Hermione do it?"

"Dunno rightly," Harry answered, giving a small shrug. "I suppose Snape did it to torture me or something, and don’t worry; I’ll double check everything he goes over with me."

They reached the door to the class, and Harry sighed. "See you at dinner?" he asked.

"Of course," Ron smiled. "And don’t worry; between the lot of us, we’ll undo any damage Malfoy does."

"Thanks." Giving a quick grin, Harry schooled his features and opened the door. "Here as ordered, sir," he commented, seeing Snape and Malfoy in deep congress in the far corner of the room - probably trading spy secrets or some such rot.

"Very well, Mr. Potter," Snape replied and then spoke a little lower for Draco alone. "I shall be in my study should you need anything, Draconis. Perhaps you should start by explaining to our resident celebrity just what being a summoneo entails and then go from there?"

"Yes, Uncle Severus," Draco murmured dutifully. All he really wanted to do was crawl back into bed and sleep for a week. Hangover potions tasted like shite and left the stomach feeling even more unsettled than the alcohol that caused the upset in the first place.

"Well, are you going to stand in the doorway looking like an arse, or are you going to come inside and shut the door?" Draco finally growled loudly enough for Potter to hear.

"I think you’ve got the corner on the looking like an arse part," Harry answered, pushing the door shut behind him. "Planning on tutoring me in that as well?"

"Moldering entrails, you are such a prat, Potter! And Dumbledore really expects me to trust you enough to to spill my guts to you on a weekly basis? He’s "completely off his rocker!" Malfoy sighed. "You know, you had the option to say no, and it would have saved us both from this... fiasco waiting to happen.

"No offense, Potter, but while you might inspire trust from those simpering fans of yours and your lackeys, there isn’t a Slytherin alive who’d believe you would actually _willingly_ be responsible for their wellbeing and quite possibly their life. Your track record is rather... bad... when it comes to saving Slytherins. Any other house but and that’s fine and dandy, but hey, what’s another dead snake, right?"

Harry’s eyes narrowed and he clenched his hands into fists to keep from going for his wand to hit Draco with a silencing curse. "The only Slytherins I’d like to see gone are the ones who are supporting Voldemort and killing off innocent Muggles and wizards," he ground out.

"And yet I’ve never actually done either, and still you’d like to see me dead, wouldn’t you? Guilt by association. My father served Voldemort, so I must too, and since my father was a Muggle murderer, I must be as well. Never mind the fact that perhaps the reason I acted the way I did was simply to survive the bastard in question," Draco spat out.

"Oh but wait, I’m a Malfoy, therefore my life had to be perfect while yours was a story that would make little Orphan Angie cry," Draco continued, trying to use a muggle euphemism he’d heard once, along time ago, but not sure if he got it right.

"Oh, so this is where I hear how horrible it was being the prince of Malfoy Manor and the pride and joy of Slytherin House?" Harry spat. "Spare me the soap opera, Malfoy, and while you’re at it, fuck off. Never once have I seen you do something out of common decency, so hearing that all the shite you’ve pulled was just an act runs pretty thin."

"Well, at least you never had a fucking father who flew into rages when you spilled your bloody _milk_ and beat you bloody because of it," Draco snarled and then clamped his hands over his mouth. "Fuck. Just... forget it, Potter, I’ll take my chances alone. It’s how it’s always been. It’s been a slice of hell, let’s not do it again anytime soon."

Harry bit back the retort that he had never had a father at all and that the Dursleys had made his life their own unique form of a living hell. "The fuck you will," he snapped.

Draco stopped, his hand on the door to Snape’s study. Shoulders sagging, he rested his head against the wood and suddenly felt very old and very tired. "Do you have any idea how much energy it takes to be such a consummate actor that not even you remember who you really are anymore?" he whispered almost to himself.

Straightening his spine slowly, Draco sucked in a few deep breaths and when he turned around again, he was once more _Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin_ , in bold, big letters, instead of the real Draco none of the entire staff and student body had ever seen, save Snape. "Don’t even bother with the charade, Potter. It’s not as if you actually care one way or another about what happens to me and besides, I’m still the same prat you tried to hex with boils, the git who tried to terrify you by dressing up as a dementor, your arch rival at quidditch. Remember?"

Visibly grinding his back teeth together in frustration, Harry crossed his arms over his chest and looked Draco square in the eyes. "Because, no matter how many times I may have wished otherwise, you don’t deserve to die. Even if you’re doing this because you see which way the wind’s blowing rather than out of any true sense of right and wrong, you don’t deserve for that to happen, especially alone."

"I see which way the wind’s blowing?" Draco laughed. "Oh, that’s rich! You are such an idiot, Potter. Why the hell do you think I wanted to be your friend back in first year before I realized what a bigoted prat you really are? I already knew which way _I_ wanted the wind to blow... anywhere that got me as far away from my fucked up family as possible.

"The only good thing Lucius Malfoy ever did in his sorry, pathetic life was give me a godfather who was a potions master. That way I could just drink a potion and hide the bruises. Well, that and being such a total arse that in the end even Voldie was so tired of him that he killed the bastard off. Never thought I’d be grateful to Voldemort for anything, but I am for that.

"Now if you’ve quite finished, I’ll go and tell Professor Snape that this was a waste of time, that you’re hopeless in potions, and that I’m transferring to Durmstrang to get as far away as possible from the lot of you raving lunatics!"

"I’ve got a better idea," Harry snarled. "Why don’t you give up this stupid idea that you can be a spy and sod off to live your happy little life. Between you and Snape, it’s been drummed into me how apparently I’m a useless arse who only makes things worse when I try to help, so there’s no point in me trying anymore, is there? Maybe I should just go let fucking Voldemort cast Avada Kadavra on me and be done with it!" He was shouting by the end, and honestly he didn’t care, being thoroughly sick of Draco Malfoy’s pity party.

"Anyone ever tell you you’re a drama queen, Potter?" Draco asked mildly, thoroughly taken aback by the other teen’s sudden outburst. And impressed, if he were to admit it to himself.

"And did you ever stop to consider that without Professor Snape ragging on you, you’d probably end up with an impossibly swelled head? Savior of the Wizarding World, Gryffindor Golden Boy, Albus Dumbledore’s star pupil, front page photo of the Daily Prophet and let’s not forget Pin-up boy for Teen Witch Weekly’s hunks of the wizarding world issue for the past three years. Don’t you ever get tired of being Saint Harry?" he asked, honestly curious. Of course his motivations for ragging on Harry had been entirely different, but that was not a topic that Draco cared to discuss at the moment.

"Every single day of my life." That he’d admitted it came as a surprise to Harry, that he’d said it to Draco Super Ego Malfoy shocked him. "Do you think I asked for any of this? Do you think I _want_ any of it? Being chased around like some - some boy band idol or treated like the second coming of Merlyn or something because I happened to live? I’d trade it all to - to..." He shook his head and looked away, his green eyes dark with memories.

"And do you think I wouldn’t trade all the Malfoy wealth and fortune to have a father who showed he loved me with a hug and not the back of his fist?" Draco replied quietly. "You don’t want to be the Boy who Lived, I never wanted to be the son of a Death Eater, and yet here we are, both stuck in the roles fate gave us. So tell me, Potter, are we really so different after all?" Draco asked quietly before leaving the room. Perhaps they both needed time to cool off and re-evaluate. Perhaps, and Draco was completely loathe to admit this, even in the quiet of his own mind, perhaps Dumbledore was right, and they had more in common than not.


	2. Chapter 2

"Have you heard, Draco? The Death Eaters took out a village of Muggles last night. Burned the houses to the ground and left the bodies piled in the center of town. They’d all been killed with unforgivables," Gregory Goyle chortled, happy to tell his ‘boss’ some juicy new gossip.

"Father says that You Know Who might actually be ready to start his war at last and that the older ones of us, those past our majority, should expect a call to join.

"Mother doesn’t want me to give up my education, but Father told her to... oh rough break, Draco, your mother’s in charge now until you reach your majority, isn’t she? That means we, me and Crabbe, will get to be Death Eaters before you."

Draco made the appropriate noises and tried not to look like he was about to be sick. A whole town of people dead just because they were Muggles and in the way of Voldemort’s army. He might not have much good to say about Muggles in general, having never really met any, but the idea of killing them just because they didn’t have any magic was...

"I forgot one of the textbooks I borrowed from Professor Snape," he lied smoothly, needing to get away. "And I promised to return it after class today. I’d best fetch it. You can have my sweet if you like, Goyle."

~*~*~

Quidditch practice had run on longer then expected, making Harry late for the evening meal, and he was reaching for the door to the Great Hall to pull it open when it was pushed out from the inside, almost smacking him in the face. "Hey, careful there," he laughed, before sobering at seeing just who was coming out. "Malfoy. What in the name of heaven’s wrong with you?" Draco’s pale complexion looked positively green.

Waving Potter away, Draco managed to walk sedately to the set of doors that led outside of the castle proper. Once outside he bolted towards the woods near Hagrid’s hut, knowing that no one could see him heave his guts out back there. He made it with moments to spare, the torturous mental images of people dying at wand point, their screams and confusion conjured in his head by his lurid imagination and the knowledge that he had known, had associated with the people responsible, making him lose what little dinner he’d managed to consume.

"Here." Harry conjured up a rag, dipping it in the spring outside the hut and handed it over once Draco was done throwing up.’ "Are you okay to stand, or do you want to sit down?"

"I... I need to speak to the Headmaster," Draco replied faintly, his stomach still doing back flips at the thought of all those defenseless muggles, especially the women and children, beign subjected to unforgiveables and the cruel amusements of the Death Eaters in Voldemort’s army. "Or better yet, Professor Snape. You really shouldn’t have followed me out here; people might get suspicious if they see you hanging around me. But... thank you," the blond continued, not realizing he’d slipped out of his icy shell and had acted like a regular person instead of an insufferable git.

"Nobody saw, and if they did, they probably thought I was going to try to kick your arse again," Harry murmured, shaken by the sight of Draco looking like this. It made him seem human, and that pulled at Harry’s conscience.

"How about we get you into Hagrid’s? I’ll go back and get my..." He trailed off, realizing he was going to have to trust Draco in this. "My cloak and I can get you in without anyone noticing us."

"Why are you being so nice all of a sudden, Potter?" Malfoy snapped, more out of habit than anything else. "Sorry, I’m just a little off balance right now. We’re supposed to be playing nice, I remember now," Draco murmured sarcastically after taking a deep breath. "Very well, help me into Hagrid’s, not that I expect him to welcome me with open arms after the things I’ve said and done, but you don’t have to get that cloak of yours; I can make it on my own ‘. Besides, what good would some stupid cloak do? I mean it’s not like an invisibility cloak or any..." Draco’s eyes widened. "Bollocks, you have an invisibility cloak? How did you manage to get your hands on one of them? Even I don’t have one, and I can get my hands on almost anything I want!"

"If you can’t take my being nice, blame it on the pathetic Gryffindor hero complex," Harry suggested, though there wasn’t any malice in his tone. Being snide to Malfoy when the other teen looked like hell would have been like kicking a puppy.

"And if someone asks you why you need to see Dumbledore when you supposedly hate him?" Harry asked. "Trust me, it’ll be safer this way. What - what happened?"

"Goyle was... boasting about something. I need to know if it really happened or if it was a trap to catch me out. I don’t think Greg is bright enough to do it, but there are others who would put him up to it, and I need to know if that’s what it is. I’ve never had to watch my back so carefully before. Until dear old daddykins kicked the bucket, the Malfoy name was pretty sacrosanct in certain circles. Beyond reproach.

"This could be a test of my loyalty, and dammit, I need to know if I’m being set up."

"C’mon, then." Vanishing the rag, Harry waited until Draco straightened himself up, and then walked him around the corner to knock on Hagrid’s door. "We’ll straighten this all out once we talk to Dumbledore."

"Evening, Harry!" Hagrid smiled, opening the door, then blinking in surprise when he saw the other boy outside. "And Draco. What brings you two out here this evening?"

Hating to lie to his friend, Harry opted for a near truth. "I came upon Malfoy here puking his guts out behind your place. Probably had too much to drink or something. Mind if he stays here until I can get him back? Don’t want Snape taking points from Gryffindor because his precious baby got hurt out here."

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy pulled himself up to his full height, which were actually inches taller than Harry. " _I_ would never stoop to the state of inebriation to which you have accused me, Potter. My apologies, Hagrid, but I was hit by a stomach turner hex, probably by the Weasel or Finnegan. I’m perfectly capable of finding my own way back, but Potter here decided to go all white knight on me. Pathetic, really," Draco practically sneered, the mask he was used to wearing around all people falling firmly into place without any effort at all.

Hagrid frowned before resting one huge hand on Draco’s shoulder and guiding him toward a chair. "Now that won’t do at all. Just you settle down here and have a spot of tea, which should have you right as rain in no time. Harry, were you going to get Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, Hagrid. I was going to get a potion and bring it back in case Malfoy became sick again, then get him back." He gave a wry smile. "

"Bloody Gryffindors, never know when to quit," Draco muttered. He didn’t want to be indebted to Potter, didn’t really want to see this side of the other boy - the kindness and compassion directed towards him. It was far too alluring, far too easy to believe that Potter actually meant it, far too simple to fall headlong into the oblivion of those brilliant green eyes.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I shall be happy to accept a cup of tea, if only to get this insufferable git to leave."

When Hagrid frowned, Harry only laughed, actually seeing the humor in the situation. "Slytherin gratitude, it’s a double edged sword, Hagrid. Mind you don’t get near the wrong side of it.

"Malfoy, don’t get pissy while you’re here, or Fang will take a bite out of you." With that, Harry was out the door and racing back toward the school, trying not to think of what could have been horrible enough to make Draco Malfoy lose his meal.

After pouring the water in the pot, Hagrid looked over at the obviously ill at ease boy, not particularly thrilled to see him here but always willing to give any Hogwarts student another chance, even one so obviously obnoxious as Draco Malfoy. "Would you be wanting sugar with that?"

"I... I’d like to say something to you. Something that I’ve wanted to say for some time but I couldn’t because I was afraid it would get back to my father," Draco said suddenly, ignoring the question about the sugar.

"’ ‘ I would like to apologize for losing you Norbert and the way I acted around Umbridge. I never meant for you to get hurt in the process, nor did I want you to be sacked. You’ve never been anything but nice to me and didn’t deserve my past behavior."

Hagrid blinked in surprise. "Well now, that’s all right. Much as I minded it at the time, it was for the best. It wouldn’t have done Norbert any good to be cooped up here with me. He’s happier now." His expression changed to one of sad melancholy.

"And he might have tried to snack on Fang," Draco pointed out logically. "A braver and more loyal dog you’d never find, Hagrid," the blond continued, ignoring for the moment that he knew just how cowardly the dog could actually be. It was obvious that Hagrid loved his giant of a dog, so a little compliment, even one that was a white lie, couldn’t hurt, could it?

Reaching out to pat the huge dog, Hagrid smiled, though he’d looked momentarily horrified at the thought that Norbert might have eaten Fang by accident. "That’s right true, Draco. I never figured you for one who liked animals. But then again, you were rather good with him in first year when you had to go into the Forbidden Forest with me," Hagrid mused out loud

"’I... was never allowed any pets, so I’m not very good with them, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t like animals.’. He’s rather smaller than I remember, but he’s still quite the huge creature, isn’t he?" Draco replied nervously, wondering just where Potter had gotten to. He was half convinced that the monstrous dog might actually try and eat him!

"That’s a shame, it is." Hagrid called Fang forward and had him sit in front of Draco. "He’s a big ‘un, but once he’s your friend, he won’t let nuthin’ happen to you. Just let him sniff your hand, then when he lets you know it’s okay, pat him an’ you’ll have a friend in next to no time.

"Fang, this here’s Draco, now be nice."

Doing as the half giant instructed, Draco began running through the litany of unspeakables and unforgivables he knew, trying to figure out which one would be the best way to dispatch that prat Potter for leaving him here alone with a monstrous dog and a half giant that was far too friendly for Draco’s own peace of mind.

Here he was, minding his own business, just trying to right a few of the wrongs he’d been forced to commit, and now he found himself drinking horrific tea and patting a dog that made a hippogriff look small. Potter really and truly had to die for this.

Fang eyed Draco coolly, staring him down as he sniffed the extended hand, then finally deigned to give it a long, slobbering lick, indicating he was adequate.

For the first time Draco was actually grateful for his less than pleasant homelife as it had taught him how to school his features into perfect neutrality. Which meant that his total revulsion at being slimed by monster doggy drool never showed.

~*~*~

Having finally made it back to the castle and through the Gryffindor common room where it seemed everyone wanted to speak to him, Harry managed to grab his cloak from his trunk and stuff it under his robes. Promising he’d be back soon to help Neville with his Charms homework, he dashed out again, waving distractedly to Ron and Hermione and wondering just what the hell he was doing.

Once outside, he flipped the cloak over himself, deciding that going unseen was better than risking anyone catching sight of him going back to Hagrid’s again. Panting from all his running, Harry swiped his damp hair back off his brow as he slipped inside the cottage, only to be greeted by the unlikely sight of Fang licking Draco’s hand while Hagrid looked on approvingly. Stunned, he let the cloak slip off his shoulders, still watching the scene before him, well aware that Fang was a better judge of character (sadly) than Hagrid.

"Potter, ahh, glad to see you, Hagrid here was introducing me to Fang again as I haven’t really seen much of him since first year and that night in the Forbidden Forest," Draco babbled, tentatively patting the giant behemoth’s head. Back then he probably could have ridden Fang like a small pony, Draco thought with a panicked chuckle.

"So, I, ah, thank you for the tea and the introduction, Hagrid. Again, I really am sorry about Norbert."

"Kind of you to say so, Draco. I hope you’re feeling better soon," Hagrid answered, rising and patting the boy on the shoulder. "Now you get him back safe and sound, ‘arry."

"Of course," was all Harry could think of to say. "Shall we, Malfoy?" He motioned toward the door, holding the cloak out so that they could both fit under it.

In hindsight Draco would have to admit he panicked. He, Draconis Severus Leonis Malfoy had an all out willy raising panic attack. "On second thought this is really a very bad idea, Potter. You don’t know the way to Slytherin; I can’t be seen with you and..." and I can’t get under that damned fabric with you when I bloody well know our bodies are going to be pressed groin to arse or some such, and there’s no way I’ll be able to hide... "Just kill me now and be done with it, please."

Looking at Draco curiously, Harry shook his head. "We aren’t going to Slytherin, Malfoy; we’re going to Dumbledore’s office. I have the password - for emergency use - and I suppose this counts as an emergency. You won’t be seen with me; I’ll drop you off at the library or somewhere you can come out of without suspicion. Now stop prattling and get under the cloak."

Groaning, Draco actually considered throwing himself on Fang’s mercy but knew that for once in his illogical life the Gryffindor golden boy was right. Curse him. "All right then, just don’t cop a feel or anything, Potter, or I’ll think you have a thing for me," Malfoy muttered, trying to bluster his way out of his discomfort.

"Not much of a problem there," Harry muttered, wondering where in the hell _that_ had come from. Had Draco heard anything about... No, it couldn’t be, just more sniping, that was all. Letting the cloak fall closed over them both, Harry took a step toward the school and found, unlike sharing the space with Ron or Hermione or even both of them, moving with Draco underneath with him was difficult. "Do we need to sing a marching cadence?" he hissed, looking over at the other boy, who looked as if he might have a stroke. "You feeling sick again?"

"No, no, I’m fine," Draco replied, his mind searching for and finally finding a likely excuse. "I’m just feeling a little claustrophobic. Sharing one’s clothing is a new experience for me." Well except for those times when his father was going for good Public Relations or was actually in a nice mood and he’d let Draco snuggle under the long fur-lined cape he wore in the cold months. If only it could have been a steady reality instead of the illusion it truly was.

"You do this all the time, don’t you? You and the Weasel? It explains a lot over the past six years, that’s for sure. But I suppose since you’re my summoneo now, I’ll return the favor and keep your secret about this, though what Professor Snape wouldn’t give to know about this thing," he smirked, tugging at the cloth of the cloak. "It would explain a great many questions he has about you."

Harry rolled his eyes heavenward. "You wish, pervert. Suffice to say that Hermione has been under here at least as much as Ron has."

"Ooh, you’re into threesomes, then? Who’d have guessed it - Harry Potter, a kink monster!"

"You’re beginning to make me wish I’d left you sitting out there in your own puke," Harry growled. "Trust you to take friendship and turn it into something twisted."

"Sounds like a typical Slytherin friendship to me," Draco said with a shrug of his shoulders, letting the subject drop. Seeing as how he only had his own experience in what ‘friendship’ was all about, he couldn’t really give expert testimony as to what it was to be friends with someone or be a friend in return. All he understood was power games thinly veiled in social niceties.

"But feel free to return me to Hagrid’s hut, if you wish. Like I said, I can take care of myself."

"You know, the more you keep trying to make me sod off, the more stubborn I’m going to get," Harry sighed, knowing it was the truth and annoyed with himself because of it.

"So if I were to go all helpless and fannish on you, fluttering my eyelashes and offering myself up to ‘Hero’ Potter as some sort of a sexual conquest, you’d leave me alone?" Draco replied hopefully. "Shall I swoon at your feet now and offer to let you ravish me?"

Harry laughed despite himself. "Too late for that, Malfoy. I’d know it was an act, so it wouldn’t work. Now come on, let’s get you to Dumbledore’s office so we can find out what’s going on."

"I... if you just get me into Dumbledore’s office, I can find my own way back, or I’m sure the Headmaster could think of a way to get me back to Slytherin without being seen," Draco said suddenly. He found himself actually enjoying the banter he and Potter seemed to have developed, and he was loathe to expose the Gryffindor to Slytherin’s very different sort of friendships and rivalries.

Harry shook his head and gave a small smile. "Door to door service, Malfoy. Deal with it."

"Even if the rescuee doesn’t require it?" Draco snapped and then sighed.

"Look, Potter, I know you don’t like me, and I know you probably never will, but this past while where we actually didn’t try to actively kill one another has been... restful. I have no desire to actually have it change. Sniping in public to maintain a cover is actually amusing, and knowing I don’t have to watch my back around you anymore is rather a pleasant change of events. Besides, I know where you go, Granger and the Weasel will follow, so that’s three less Gryffindorks I have to worry about. I don’t want that to change, all right?"

"It is easier only having Voldemort to worry about," Harry said dryly, realizing that this... truce had made things easier at Hogwarts. "Why do you think it would change? Until this is over, I’d say we’re pretty much in the same boat."

"Because despite what you think you know about me, there are some things that I am very much ashamed of having to have had participated in. I may not have taken the Death Eater mark yet, but with Lucius Malfoy as my father I wasn’t exactly... innocent," Draco confessed quietly. "Maybe I don’t want you to think less of me than you already do."

Harry stopped walking and turned to look at Draco, trying to see behind the mask the other boy claimed to wear and his own resentment. "You know, there was a time when I would have said that wasn’t possible, but now..." He paused. "It’s your life, Malfoy. I can’t force you to do anything - except stay alive of course." The last was said with a bit of a smile.

"You’re a Gryffindor through and through, Potter. I’ll give you that," Draco replied with a smile. "Well, it’s not like you won’t find out anyway, if it is true. It’ll be in the next Order meeting for sure if it’s not a lie. Yes, yes, I know you’re a member of the Order, junior though you may be. Unlike your friends I’m not oblivious to what Dumbledore does here. I just pretended to be so I wouldn’t have to tell my father. He was already doing his damnedest to get the Headmaster kicked out and the mud... muggle borns expelled; he didn’t need to know what I knew to help him further’. This... Hogwarts has been one of the few places that has been almost a safe haven to me. I wouldn’t want it destroyed, despite what people might think."

Remaining silent for a moment, Harry continued to study Draco closely. "Why didn’t you tell anyone?" he asked finally. "About what your father did to you. Dumbledore would have stopped it."

"To use a Muggle comparison, Potter, if the Queen of England was beating her heir into submission, would anyone really dare to step in, or would they look the other way? Be honest about it. My word against my father’s and my father holds the purse strings. House elves are abused and indentured for life, servants can be bought, and my mother... wasn’t in any position to protect me herself," Draco replied with a pragmatic shrug of his shoulders.

"I’m sorry." At a loss for words, Harry reached out and briefly clasped Draco’s shoulder. "I thought the Dursleys were bad, but they never hit me - well, not after they found out I could turn them all into toads."

"Ahh, the joys of living with Muggles," Draco replied. "A simple transfiguration spell could protect you from unspeakable things. Whereas if I tried to turn my father into a toad, he would have used Crucio on me just to remind me of my place. It’s not quite the same when they can do the same things you can do, only better," Draco replied with a pained smirk. "Why do you think I got so good at duelling and dark arts? I was biding my time and waiting for the day when I’d come into my full abilities and I could turn the tables. Thank goodness he did me a favor by screwing up and getting himself killed. Saved me the effort."

Harry didn’t bother to mention that the Dursleys found enough other ways to make his life miserable because they were afraid of him; there didn’t seem to be a point in it. "Why... why did Voldemort kill him?" he finally asked.

"Father failed to discover the traitor in the Death Eaters’ midst. Oh, he thought he had the right person, but the evidence mysteriously vanished, and what was left in its place seemed to indicate that _he_ was the traitor. M’lord Voldemort was... less than impressed," Draco replied, an icy grin spreading across his aristocratic features. "I guess Father never learned that if you pushed too much and too far, things and people have a tendency to snap at last," he continued, his voice becoming rough with hatred, love and despair.

"Sick, don’t you think?" he continued after a few moments of silence. "I miss him even though I’m the one who signed his death sentence. I love him still even though I hated what he did to me. He was my father, and I killed him. What does that make me, I wonder?"

"A boy who wanted a family," Harry said quietly. "A boy who wanted his father to love him."

"Wouldn’t be a very Slytherin thing to want, now would it? Better to say I wanted his power and not to live under his thumb, so when the opportunity presented itself, I acted like a proper Slytherin son would. Who knows, maybe when he realized what had happened and it occurred to him that I was the only one who could have done it, maybe in those final moments he was actually proud of me for once in my miserable life," Draco answered quietly.

"Ah, here we are, the Headmaster’s office. Now for the next melodrama in my life."

"Draco..." Harry paused, realizing the other teen didn’t want his pity, and in fact, would probably hate him for it. Deciding it was better to say nothing, he faced the archway and gave the password, watching the spiral stairway open up before them.

"Well, here goes nothing," Draco grimaced. "I’ve always hated his office, you know? All those portraits asking questions or snoring or simply staring at you. Knowing you, you loved it, right? Although the firebird is somewhat fascinating. I actually wanted one as a pet, but my father wouldn’t let me have it. An eagle owl was the traditional Malfoy family bird; we didn’t need a silly and frivolous creature like a phoenix. Personally, a creature whose tears heal, whose ashes can be used in a million different potions and whose own magic could augment yours seemed like a bloody brilliant idea to me. Maybe I’ll get myself one now that he’s not around to object anymore," Draco prattled even though he knew he was prattling and hated it.

Pulling the cloak from around them and hanging it over his arm, Harry shook his head. "Actually, I’ve always figured they were judging me and saying, ‘ _That’s_ the Boy who Lived? It can’t be!’"

"Oh puhlease, you’re probably the most loved Gryffindor in a century or some fine crap," Draco replied with a roll of his eyes. "Everyone loves you, Potter, well, everyone except for Voldemort, his Death Eaters and his followers. Hell, you even have a fan club among the Slytherin girls... but that’s more because you are, and I quote, one of the most shaggable wizards out there."

"Because of what I am, not because of who I am," Harry said quietly. "In which case I’d rather I weren’t."

"Potter, they’re Slytherins; chances are their parents, relatives and siblings are supporters of Voldemort or Death Eaters themselves. Trust me when I say that it’s not who you are that makes you shaggable. I mean really, have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re bloody gorgeous!"

Harry frowned. "I didn’t mean the Slytherin girls, I meant everyone, and there’s no need to be ridiculing me. I thought we were trying to get along here."

"What are you babbling about, Potter? I’m not making fun of you in the slightest. I mean honestly, are you completely blind to your looks? Well, admittedly your hair is always a bloody rat’s nest, but it’s lush and thick and," Draco’s hand shot out to brush against the inky black mess, a _big_ mistake that had him biting back a groan, "and rather soft to the touch. Your eyes are gorgeously green, though they’d look ever so much better if you lost the horrendous glasses, and you’ve got a fantastic body. Quidditch comes in handy some times, doesn’t it?

"Why you would think I’d make this up is beyond me. If anything, you’d think I’d be shooting you down because let’s face it, you’re competition, and I’m used to being the most beautiful thing in school. "

Harry was sure he looked as if someone had hit him in the face with a bludger. "But you are the most beautiful..." he started before a door creaked open on the other side of the office and the headmaster strode inside.

"Harry, Draco. Am I right in assuming that there’s something amiss?" he asked, looking at the two young men, pleased to see that for once they weren’t trying to kill each other.

Draco cursed the headmaster in all seven different languages he knew, using some very colorful phrasing while he was at it. Things had just started to get really interesting, and the old busybody had had to show up. He was dying to know how Potter would have finished that sentence but...

Draco heaved a silent sigh. Chances were that wouldn’t happen now or anytime in the near future, so he might as well get on with it.

"Headmaster, I need to know, was a Muggle village razed to the ground by Death Eaters last night and all its inhabitants killed?"

"I’m afraid it is true," Dumbledore answered, shaking his head sorrowfully. "The village of Treesbury. I received word of it from the Ministry earlier this evening. The Muggles believe it was a hearth fire that got out of hand."

Harry drew in a quick breath, feeling ill himself at the revelation.

"Oh merciful gods, then what Goyle told me was true," Draco groaned. " _He’s_ going to start recruiting from the students soon, those whose parents have given permission for them to receive the mark and leave school. Narcissa won’t allow it; she still wants me to be her little boy as long as possible, and without my father’s influence to pressure her... well, she’s always had a mind of her own when it came to me, and the last thing she wants is for me to get one of those horrid tattoos and dirty my hands by killing muggles.".

"But that means if he’s ready to pull the students out, he’s ready to start his campaign, Headmaster. The war is upon us."

"We need to find him, to stop him _now_ ," Harry stated, pacing back and forth across the office while Fawkes stirred on his perch and made soothing sounds. "Before he can hurt more people."

"That is more difficult than it sounds," Dumbledore sighed. "And if that news has already spread to Gregory, it is far from the worst that Voldemort has planned."

"I...," Draco glanced at Potter and then sighed, stupid, headstrong Gryffindor, Potter seemed determined to get himself killed. "Has Uncle Severus been called yet? It would be peculiar if he hasn’t. And if he hasn’t, that means that Riddle must suspect him, and quite possibly me as well."

"He was summoned just before dinner. I have no idea of how long this meeting will take or when he shall return, I’m afraid, Draco," the headmaster replied softly.

"Try not to worry too much; he has always managed to come back to us."

Draco’s eyes had darkened to a stormy grey, and concern pinched his features. "He’s always been more of a father than my own. I would be... upset... if something were to happen to him," Draco finally admitted. "You’ll ask him to let me know when he’s safely back at Hogwarts?" Draco resigned himself to once more play the Voldemort waiting game as he had so many times in the past.

"Of course," Dumbledore answered, laying a comforting hand on Draco’s shoulder. "For right now I would suggest the two of you return to your Houses and try to get some sleep. Things are only going to become more difficult from now on, I fear. Now I must go and take care of some business of my own. You two can see yourselves out, I assume?"

Harry waited until Dumbledore was gone before his frustration burst free. "Wait? Wait while what, Voldemort kills more people?"

"And what would you do in his place, Potter?" Draco snarled, wanting to smack the other boy for his stupidity. "No one knows where Voldemort is but Voldemort and Pettigrew; no one knows the true size of his Death Eater army; not even my father had that knowledge. Voldemort plays his cards close to the chest and never gives more than a modicum of information to each of his lieutenants as a way to ensure loyalty and as a way to control them. Not even Albus Dumbledore is so all powerful and all knowing that he can just look at a map of Wizarding England and say ‘here, right here is where Voldemort and his army can be found.’ Grow up, will you!"

Going utterly still, Harry stared at Draco, his glare approaching those he’d given when their rivalry was at their most heated. "Fine, I will." He threw his cloak at the other boy, counting on Malfoy’s reflexes to allow him to catch it. "Go ahead and use it, wouldn’t want to risk being seen coming out of the enemy’s office. I’ll just toddle along and play with my toys now." He turned and stalked toward the stairs, fuming, mostly at the fact that he knew Draco was right.

"Oh bloody hell, will St. Potter the martyr please stand up and be counted!" Draco drawled scathingly. "First you don’t want to be the boy who lives because you can’t stand the attention, and now you want to dive right into the fire without so much as making sure you have a flame retardant potion on you. It’s a bloody miracle you Gryffindors actually make it to graduation considering the way you plunge headlong into disaster without at least making sure you have a plan first.

"Think, Potter, for once in your life use the brain that Professor Snape is sure you have, rusty and ill-used though it may be. What do you think Dumbledore is doing as we speak? Or Professor Snape for that matter? He’s only risking his life and quite possibly his soul to find out as much as he can about what will happen in order to bring it back to Albus, who is, no doubt, assembling the Order and alerting all the allies of the light. Instead of moping and sulking and throwing bloody tantrums, why don’t you get your head out of your arse and make some plans of your own?

"Here, take this," he said, walking up to the other teen, spinning him around and shoving the cloak back into Potter’s arms. "And go fetch Granger and the Weasel. There’s a floo connection from here to Professor Snape’s rooms, and I know the passwords to take down the wards. We need to find a way to track Voldemort, and the most obvious way would be to figure out what spell or potion or something that _I_ can plant on Goyle and Crabbe if they’re to be called soon. We can track them to him and then have the information that the Order needs. Now do you think your ill-utilized little Gryffindor brain can manage that?"

As furious as Harry was, he had to admit that Malfoy had a point. Several of them in fact. "I’ll borrow Neville’s Rememberall if I can’t manage the details," he ground out before swirling the cloak around him and vanishing from sight.

"See that you do," Draco snapped and then sighed. "Look, I’m sorry, but he’s... he’s all I’ve got left, the only real father I ever had. To lose him to that _thing_ as well, it would be unthinkable. I apologize for my loss of temper, but you really do take foolish risks without thinking things through. It is a wonder of good luck that you’re still alive."

"I don’t expect to be when this is all over." That said, Harry sped down the stairs and toward Gryffindor.

"The hell you won’t be," Draco muttered to himself as he watched the door to the headmaster’s office shut behind Harry. "No matter what I have to do or who I have to kill, Harry bloody Potter will live to see his victory. That’s the way it should be, the happily ever after and all that rot."


	3. Chapter 3

Draco had flooed in, shut the wards off and left the door slightly ajar so that Potter and his lot could come in, and then he raided both Snape’s personal library and his pantry.

Professor Snape might have a heart attack at finding three Gryffindorks and a Slytherin prince in his living room conspiring together, but Uncle Severus might well be expecting it, judging from the sarcastic note to Draco informing him that Weasley was to keep his grubby hands off his books and to let Granger do the actual research as she was the one most likely to be able to actually do it correctly. Potter and Weasley would make good errand boys and go-fors, though.

"Please be safe, Uncle Sev, please," Draco whispered forlornly before gathering up the books needed and heading back out to the sitting area.

"Harry, Professor Snape is going to _kill_ you if he finds out that we were in..." Hermione’s voice fell silent as she spied Draco in the room.

"Bloody hell! What’s that sod doing here?" Ron snarled. "I thought you said this had to do with V-Voldemort! What? Malfoy going to give him easy access to you?"

Harry sighed and pulled the cloak off all of them. "It’s not that simple, Ron," he said. "I can’t explain more." Draco’s secret was safe with him; he’d sworn it.

Biting his lip until it actually bled, Draco counted backwards until the impulse to insult the idiot had passed. He’d be polite, maybe not pleasant but polite. "It was Professor Dumbledore’s decision that Potter and I work together, Weasel. Ask him if you like; I can use Professor Snape’s floo powder to contact him. Let’s just say that he isn’t the only one in the family who doesn’t believe in following family traditions and leave it at that.

"Now can we please get to work?" Draco bit out, surprised at how well he’d actually managed to keep his sharp tongue sheathed.

"You...he... awh c’mon, Harry, you’re pulling my leg, right? No way would Professor Dumbledore want you to work with a greasy Slytherin wanker like Malfoy. This is some sort of test or something, isn’t it? I mean _Malfoy_?" Ron asked, torn between wanting to whine and wanting to bellow.

Hermione seemed ill at ease with the situation but plunged ahead. "We’ll need details, of course."

Staying close to Ron in case his friend decided Draco was the enemy and went after him, Harry nodded. "I’ve already had this conversation with myself a hundred times, Ron. It’s the truth, and it’s real. Malfoy - Draco’s on our side in this."

"Oh bloody hell, this is a total waste of time. _He_ is going to be absolutely useless, and if you insist upon playing St. Potter the Martyr, you’ll be about the same. The only one here with enough brains to help me figure this out is Granger. Now if you can’t keep the Weasel’s mouth firmly shut, take him and get out, or I swear I’ll put a muzzling hex on him," Draco growled.

"And another thing, put a damned silentium spell on the both of them while you’re at it. The last thing I need is for Weasley to go blabbing to the world what I’m doing; the idiot couldn’t keep a secret on his own to save his life, and definitely not to save mine! Granger I actually trust, but they’re both Gryffindors regardless," Draco continued, still not believing that Harry had actually told them but not surprised nonetheless. _Gryffindors,_ he thought to himself, a whole lot of bravado and, apart from Granger, not a whole lot of common sense. Speaking of...

Draco turned to the only female in the room, his manner becoming a great deal more respectful and polite. "Tea, Granger? Before we begin so I can explain the details to someone who might actually understand me?"

Ron growled and tried to lunge at Draco only to find himself looking at the business end of a wand.

"Let me be perfectly clear. I’m not in the mood to deal with you; this room has certain spells in place that would make it next to impossible for the Headmaster to know that I’ve hexed you six ways from Sunday; and I. Don’t. Like. You. Now SIT!" he bellowed at the enraged redhead, doing a rather impressive approximation of Severus Snape on a rampage.

Harry ran both hands through his hair in a gesture of defeat. "Please, Ron, just hear him out. We need all the help we can get with this. Draco, don’t threaten Ron again, all right?" Unsaid was the fact that he doubted Malfoy would do as he said, something that wouldn’t even have occurred to him before.

Ignoring the outburst as if it hadn’t occurred, Hermione nodded even as she pulled out a quill and parchment to take notes. "Tea would be lovely; I have a feeling it’s going to be a very long night."

"Then keep him on a leash, Harry," Draco replied immediately, not even realizing that he and Potter were calling each other by their first names. "My temper is not at its best at the moment to begin with. I’m worried about him, and the Weasel has never been my favorite person. It’s rather taxing on my frayed nerves.

"Now, Granger, milk and sugar or lemon?" Draco asked, playing the perfect host as he poured Hermione a cup. "You can even let the Weasel taste it so he can be sure I didn’t poison it."

"Harry, why did he call you _Harry_ , and why did you call him _Draco_? Oh Merlyn, what is this world coming to?" Ron moaned.

"Lemon is fine, and I’m sure Ron doesn’t need to taste it," Hermione replied, giving a strained smile as she accepted the cup and saucer, feeling a bit like Alice in the old book she’d read.

"It could be coming to an end as we know it if we don’t find a way to stop Voldemort," Harry said quietly. "Compared to that, inter-house rivalry doesn’t mean much."

Draco sagged in his chair. "You have no idea, really you don’t," he whispered. "I heard so much, so much of the planning the plotting, the what-would-happen-afters. Purges, death camps, breeding farms... it was beyond depraved; it was inhuman.

"I’ve seen him, have I told you that, Potter? What he looks like since he’s come back, and it’s not pretty, not by any stretch of the imagination. Tom Riddle was a very handsome young man, like one of those fallen angels in that Muggle book, the Babble? Voldemort is evil given form. The only thing holding what passes as flesh to his bones is the evil that lives within him."

"I think I’m going to be sick," Ron moaned, slumping down onto the floor. "Gryffindors working with Slytherins, it’s the end of the world, it truly is!"

"Ron, shut up!" Harry and Hermione said in chorus.

"That might be the key to it all," Hermione murmured, digging into her satchel for a book and flipping through it furiously.

Draco’s eyebrow quirked, and his lip half curled. "You two do that rather well, been practicing a while now?" he asked innocently.

Resting a hand on Ron’s shoulder before he could jump to his feet to try to throttle Draco, Harry shook his head warningly. "Don’t push it, please."

Hermione, meanwhile, had been making a list and handed it over to Harry. "You and Ron go get these books for me."

"And leave you here alone with _him_?" Weasley squeaked, his voice breaking in distress.

Deciding he’d had enough, Draco got to his feet and prowled across the floor until he was right in front of Weasley. "I’m afraid Granger really does nothing for me, but if _you_ were to stay and keep me company... Red hair is just ever so sexy," Draco purred, cocking his hip and tucking his hands under his chin, fluttering his eyes at Ron.

"Help, Harry!" Ron squeaked and crab scuttled back behind his best friend. "He’s... he’s _coming on to me_!"

While Hermione tried to stifle her giggles behind her book, Harry sighed and shook his head, feeling an unexpected bolt of jealousy go through him. "Relax, Ron, I won’t let him get you. Draco, back off. You’re making Ron nervous, and we all need our wits about us tonight." He knew he’d been staring at Malfoy when he put on his act; he just hoped no one else had noticed.

Blowing a kiss towards Ron, Draco cooed one last time. "You don’t know what you’d be missing, big boy. Ah well, your loss is someone else’s gain," Draco continued, looking right at Harry, an expression of pure, unadulterated hunger on his face for the space of a heartbeat before it frosted over into the typical Malfoy condescension. "So why don’t you both run along and fetch Granger her books while I fill her in on what we’re after and we look through the books Professor Snape keeps in his personal library. Shoo."

Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and dragged him off before he could have another fit, hoping he could straighten things out while he was gone.

Hermione marked her place in her book and looked up at Draco. "If you hurt Harry, I swear I’ll find something worse than the Avada Kedavra to use on you," she said mildly.

"Granger, I haven’t so much as raised my wand to him in the past seven years of school outside of Dueling Club; doesn’t that tell you anything? You, I’ve hexed; Weasel I’ve hexed; him I’ve left completely alone. Use the brain you were given, and do the arithmancy; I’m pretty sure the numbers will add up," Draco sighed.

"C’mon, the rest of Professor Snape’s library is through here. He’s already given permission for you to look at it. To quote him, I’m to let ‘let Granger do the actual research as she’s the one most likely to be able to actually do it correctly.’"

Standing, Hermione packed her books back into her bag and followed Draco into the other room. "Why do I think Professor Snape also said something along the line of ‘if you tell Granger that, I’ll give you a donkey’s tail’?

"Oh, and I didn’t mean hurt him that way, and you very well know it. The numbers add up far too well for my liking."

"Actually it was ‘turn me into a ferret’ if you must know," Draco smirked. "And while you can add, it’s quite likely that Potter can’t, so never fear, his virtue is safe until Cho Chang or some other perfect girl for the perfect Gryffindor comes along," he said quietly.

"You know, I had never even met someone who was Muggle born until I came to Hogwarts. My father... well, my father’s opinions were quite widely known. I... apologize for calling you Mudblood. I was much younger and resented it greatly that I was being accused of having bought my way onto the team.

"Oh, no doubt my father’s brooms did have a hand in it, but I’m a damn good seeker; I’m just not as good as the youngest seeker in a century. Had it been anyone else on the Gryffindor team, Slytherin would have kicked your arses time and again."

"You have no idea, do you..." she murmured, shaking her head. "You know, Draco, if you had shown this side of yourself sooner, a lot of the rubbish we went through the past seven years could have been avoided. Oh, I know you had your reasons, which I won’t hound you for, so don’t fear."

"You’ve met my father, Granger; there’s no way any of it could have been avoided until the day he died, be honest," Draco replied. "But thank you for saying so. You really are a very kind lady. Weasley’s a lucky bloke, or he would be if he ever got his head out of his arse and realized what he had. Now, enough of this... Gryffindorish conversation. Let’s get to work, shall we?"

~*~*~

Arms full of books, Harry and Ron made it back to the room and collapsed into separate chairs, the volumes tumbling to the floor around them.

"What on - those are fragile!" Hermione gasped, running from the back room to rescue several volumes. "Draco, a hand here please?"

"You see why Professor Snape only wanted you to touch his books, Hermione?" Draco remarked sotte voce, as he followed behind the harried Gryffindor at a more sedate pace. "Tch tch, you’re a witch and a bloody good one, there are easier ways than that," he murmured, stopping her with a hand under her elbow as she bent to retrieve them. "Weren’t you the first one of us to master the Leviosa?" he asked, bringing his wand out from beneath his robe and murmuring the Leviosa charm "to cause the books to float up and float into the library, ready for use.

"Hermione? When did you start calling her Hermione, you blast ended skrewt!" Ron roared, diving off the chair and at Draco.

"Ron, don’t you dare!" she shouted just before the redhead’s fist connected with Draco’s jaw.

"That’s it!" Harry yelled, jumping to his feet, his wand already in his hand. "Immobulous!" The other three froze, Draco with his fist cocked back to hit Ron and Hermione with her mouth open, ready to cast her own spell.

Feeling very tired and very old, Harry looked at the other three, his two best friends, and his... whatever Draco was; at this point he wasn’t sure. "Voldemort has got to be loving this, us at each other’s throats. It’s what he lives for, what feeds him. If we can’t work together, I am better off going it on my own, and yes, I know I’m being an idiot Gryffindor, Malfoy; don’t remind me."

With a weary wave of his wand, he cancelled the spell and began to gather up the books, turning his back on the others.

Glaring at Weasley, Draco lowered his hand and walked over to and around Harry until he was looking the Gryffindor in the eye. "I’m sorry, I promised to behave, and I shall endeavor to do so. Now I ask a favor of my summoneo ," he said quite distinctly, ignoring Ron’s exclamation and Hermione’s gasp.

Harry looked up, meeting Draco’s stormy eyes and feeling that strange clenching within himself again. "It’s not much of a secret if you tell everyone who holds it," he said quietly.

"You trust them; it will have to be enough for me," Draco replied simply. "And my favor is this, summoneo , don’t go and be St. Potter the Martyr just yet. Let us figure out a plan first. And when you do go, you take me with you."

"I..." Harry’s jaw worked, and he looked away.

"Your word as a Gryffindor, Potter," Draco growled menacingly, crowding forward into Harry’s personal space and pushing because he knew, he _knew_ the idiot was already planning something. "Give it to me. Now!"

Harry was aware of a discussion going on between Ron and Hermione, but he couldn’t understand a word of it as his whole being was suddenly attuned to Draco, who at the moment reminded him of some sort of avenging angel. That made him give an almost hysterical laugh because for all of his time at Hogwarts he’d thought of the other boy as the devil.

"I won’t go alone," he finally sighed, running his tongue out over his suddenly dry lips and trying to swallow.

"Thank you," Draco breathed, suddenly deflating and drawing in on himself. "Now, Hermione and I might have found something... shall we go back into the library?"

Harry nodded and got to his feet, following after the other two along with a remarkably subdued Ron.

~*~*~

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Draco looked up at the clock on the mantle, which read ‘far too late for a reasonable person to be awake,’ and groaned. "You don’t suppose Dumbledore will excuse us from class today, do you?" he asked hopefully, looking at Hermione and Harry. Ron had long since passed out on the floor of the small library and was snoring loudly enough to shake the foundations.

"Hellfires, Potter, how _do_ you sleep with him in the bed next to yours? I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful to be a prefect and have a room of my own."

Harry shrugged, too tired to do anything more. "Seven years, you get used to it. ‘Course, he has had his own room for the last three."

Shaking her head, Hermione waved her wand and murmured a a silencing spell, muffling the noise around the redhead and thus rendering Ron quiet. "What," she asked, looking at Harry and Draco, "haven’t either of you ever heard of that charm?"

Draco snickered and tried to hide it behind his hand. "Never had the problem of a noisy roommate, so I never had any need for it, Hermione, but thank you for that."

Looking at the tired faces of his companions, Draco suddenly made an executive decision. Getting up, he went over to the library fireplace and, grabbing a handful of powder from a jar on the mantle, flung it into the fire. "Professor Dumbledore?" he asked softly, hoping that the headmaster was still awake even at this unholy hour of the morning.

"Yes, Draco, my boy, what can I do for you?" came the immediate and chipper reply of the headmaster.

"We, that is Potter, Weasley, Granger, and I, have been up all night researching our ‘special project’. Could you please dismiss us from today’s classes if possible? And connect Professor Snape’s fireplace to the Gryffindor common room for three people to floo this once? I don’t think Weasel-y will make the trek back across the school."

"Shall I set up one for you as well, my boy?"

"Thank you but no, I think I’ll wait here until Uncle Severus gets home safely," Draco replied, worried. "You’ve still not heard anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Try not to worry too much; he’s been gone longer than this before. I will inform your... Professor McGonagall that the four of you have been excused from classes for the morning due to a late night study session authorized by me. Try and get some rest."

"Yes, sir," Harry said, pushing himself to his feet and helping Hermione up before moving over to nudge Ron awake.

"You two go on back. I’ll - there’s a few more things I need to do here."

"Whot? You’re not staying are you? C’mon, Harry m’ tired," Ron mumbled, staggering to his feet and following after Hermione in a zombie-like state.

"You heard the Weasel, Potter. Go on," Draco chimed in, for once agreeing with the weasel as he waved them all along. "I’ll tidy up and curl up on the lounge, nothing to worry about. Off you go."

"No," Harry said stubbornly, catching Hermione’s eye in a plea for support. "I’ll be along in a while. I just don’t think... Being alone with your thoughts isn’t good. I know how I felt when Sirius was out of touch." He was proud that he managed a level tone as he said that, considering everything.

"Come on, Ron, "Hermione said, taking his arm and guiding him toward the fireplace. "Harry can take care of himself."

"Jus’ don’ let him ravish you, ‘kay?" Ron mumbled, following behind Hermione complacently. "He’s got tricky hands, he does."

Draco’s eyebrow quirked at that, "And just how would Weasley know my hands were tricky, I wonder?"

"No idea," Harry yawned, sitting on the floor once again and leaning back against the sofa. "Perhaps because you’re faster with a wand then he is."

"Potter, _Goyle_ is faster with a wand than he is," Draco exaggerated. "Bloody hell, you’re dead on your feet. C’mon, Uncle Sev has a spare room where I stay when I come and visit during summer months. We can share, and I promise to be the picture of gentlemanly behavior. No sense us losing more sleep while we wait. He... he’ll wake me up when he gets back."

"Goyle’s problem is he can’t remember the spell once he gets the wand out," Harry muttered as he stood once again, rubbing at his head and pushing his hair even more askew. "He’ll be back soon, Draco; Professor Snape wouldn’t be caught out that easily."

He wished he could say more to reassure Malfoy, but Harry knew as well as anyone and better than most that many times things you wished for never came true.

"Of course he won’t; he’s not the head of Slytherin for nothing!" Draco boasted and then shook his head, "but Voldemort is Voldemort. He doesn’t need a reason to dish out ‘punishments’. All Uncle Sev has to do is look at him funny, and he could get hit with a Crucio or worse. And it wouldn’t be the first time either. I just wish he’d get home."

Pulling himself together, Draco tried to shake it off. "C’mon then, I’ll even lend you a pair of pajamas. Ever slept in silk before, Potter?"

"Don’t need to do that, I’ll be fine." Harry’s tired brain was having enough trouble seeing Snape as someone anyone would worry about, but he supposed if he could see Draco Malfoy as something other than a bastard, he could manage it.

"Oooh, do you sleep in the altogether? You mean I might get a show after all?" Draco purred, licking his lips hungrily.

"And here I thought you promised you wouldn’t ravish me, guess I was wrong."

"Just because one looks in the window of Honeydukes doesn’t mean one has to go in and buy the candy, Potter," Draco replied loftily. "However, if you _want_ me to ravish you, all you have to do is say so. I could tolerate obliging you."

Harry sighed and pulled his jumper over his head, giving in to comfort that much. "Go to sleep, Malfoy, you’re talking crazy."

"And you’re being a stupid git. If you’re going to insist upon staying with me, you are _not_ sleeping in your clothes. It’s bloody uncomfortable. Now stop arguing." That said, Draco led the way into the spare room, rummaged through a drawer and pulled out a pair of Slytherin green silk pajamas. Pointing at a door, he continued. "Washroom is through there. Give me a couple of minutes to get my own on," he requested as he pulled out a second pair, this time pewter grey. "Now go on, you prat."

"Fine... try to do the right thing and it bites me in the arse, as usual," Harry muttered, walking to the washroom. The thought of just what Snape would have to say about this when he got back... if he got back. That reminded Harry of why he was there in the first place, and he set aside his annoyance and changed, admitting to himself that the pajamas did feel good against his skin. Folding his clothes over his arm, he carried them out and stood, looking at the bed.

Draco was already curled up on his side of the bed, under the covers. He’d even gone so far as to transfigure a couple of books into a few more pillows that he put down the center of the bed just to ensure that Potter would remain unravished in the night. "Come to bed, Potter," he murmured. "We have another fun, class and research-filled day ahead of us tomorrow, and then on the weekend we have to start making the potion."

And then they just had to find Voldemort and keep him from killing anyone and... Harry’s head ached with it all, and he didn’t feel like fighting any longer. "Get some sleep, Malfoy," he mumbled, climbing into the bed and pulling the sheet and blankets over him. "You’re going to need it."

"We both are, I’m afraid. And will have very few chances to get it in the next while," Draco sighed. Because the fact was that even if Voldemort fell, there was still the army of Death Eaters to deal with, and after that there were the Dementors and those who supported but didn’t actively participate and the trials and the searches and... what Draco wouldn’t give to have been born in peaceful times. "I’d even have accepted being born a muggle with no magical ability at all and never having to know about the wizarding world at all at this point," he sighed aloud, not realizing he’d spoken.

Harry had closed his eyes but opened them again at that last comment. "I bet you still would have ended up from a ‘family’."

"But I thought you lived with your mum’s family?" Draco replied, turning over to look across the pillow barricade at Harry. "That’s what we’d heard. You were living with Muggle relatives. Weren’t you?"

Harry made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "I meant a well off family, Draco, not just any family. I live with my aunt and uncle, but there certainly isn’t any family in that situation. Unwanted nuisance who was reminded of it every day of his life is more accurate."

"But you’re... no, they wouldn’t give a rat’s arse that you’re Harry Potter in the Muggle world, would they?" Draco replied thoughtfully. "We’re a fine pair aren’t we, one neglected, the other abused, one branded a savior, the other a traitor, and all by the time we were eleven years old. What a grand joke that is."

"If I wasn’t so tired, I’d suggest we make a run to Hogsmeade, get some firewhiskey and toast to having your life planned out before you’ve even hit puberty, though you’ve managed to turn yours around."

"And you haven’t? Bloody hell, you’ll have job offers by the dozens at the end of the year, and you’ll come into the money your parents left you in their estate and wills. It’ll make sure you won’t have to snap up the first job that came along just so you can get by. And aren’t you Black’s heir as well? Now that is a family as old and as powerful as the Malfoys. Hell, Black was my true blood uncle for Merlyn’s sake! I have a damned good idea of what he would have left you."

"It’s not about the money or any of that rot." Harry raised an arm to cover his eyes. "I’ll think about the future when it gets here. After... everything else."

"Don’t go all melodramatic and saintly on me now, Potter. You promised me you wouldn’t go off on a crusade without me, and I’m holding you to it. No martyring yourself on the Gryffindor altar of bravery and idiocy."

Harry refrained from saying he’d promised no such thing, which he very carefully hadn’t. "Fine, I’ll make an effort to curb my self-destructive tendencies if we can get some sleep. Do you think that’s possible?"

"My, a Gryffindor being reasonable," Draco teased. What is this world coming to?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Dragon, what is Potter doing in your bed?" came the soft whisper next to him a few hours later. Always a light sleeper, Draco’s eyes sprang instantly open.

"Uncle Sev? Are you okay?" One look at his godfather, however, revealed he was anything but. "Crucio?" he whispered quietly. "How many times?"

"Enough that I probably shan’t be teaching today. Thank the merciful stars it’s Friday. But enough..."

"Have you taken a potion yet? I’ll go run you a bath. You strip off and get in, and I’ll bring you one as well as a drink. Then I’ll explain. Let him sleep; he needs it," Draco replied softly, head motioning to Harry.

~*~*~

Harry woke to a blinding headache centered on his scar and groaned as he sat up, reaching for his glasses, then frowning when they weren’t on the stand next to his bed... This wasn’t his bed. Trying to make some kind of sense of the dreams he’d had the night before, he squinted, looking around until he finally found his glasses and put them on. He heard low voices coming out of the washroom and breathed a sigh of relief that Snape had apparently gotten back safely.

Of course, that led to the question as to whether there was any chance he could get changed and out of here without anyone seeing, especially since his cloak was in the outer room.

Draco closed the bathroom door behind him with a soft sigh. Now that Snape had drunk the potion and had relaxed some, he could relax as well. Heading back into the bedroom, he saw Harry with his hands on the buttons of the pajamas he’d reluctantly borrowed.

"Don’t even think of it, Potter. Get your arse back into bed and go to sleep. You look like shite," Draco replied mildly, his hands crossing his chest as he leaned on the doorjamb, blocking it.

"Actually, you look like you need a potion too, dreamless sleep, perhaps. And why does your scar look inflamed all of a sudden? It wasn’t like that earlier."

Growling under his breath, Harry glared at Draco. "They don’t help, since it’s not dreams exactly. Sometimes I get to see what Voldemort’s doing and feel what he’s feeling; last night was one of those times."

"You saw what happened to Uncle Sev?" Draco replied quietly, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. "If you did, don’t tell him. He hates for people to know, for him to appear weak. His pride is one of the few things he’s got left that not even bigoted Ministry officials can take away from him.

"And I’m serious, Potter, get your arse back into bed," Draco continued, giving the Gryffindor a rather impressive glare of his own. "We were both up late, and we’ll probably be up late again tonight. I doubt either Hermione or the Weasel will be seen before lunch time, and you looking like death warmed over is only going to arouse suspicions."

Unable to think of a good argument for that line of reasoning, Harry sat back on the bed. "You’re just loving this, aren’t you?" he asked. "Getting to boss me around like this. And no, I won’t say anything to Professor Snape. I get reamed out enough by him without adding that to the list of why he hates me. Oh, and one more thing, get your own arse back into bed as well; you’re giving me a run for the galleons in the ‘looks like shite’ competition."

"Why, Potter, I didn’t know you cared," Draco replied with a flutter of long, silver white eyelashes. "And for the record, Uncle Sev doesn’t hate you. Your father and your godfather, now that’s another story. The werewolf he tolerated, but the man did try to rip his throat out after all. He actually respected your mum underneath all that ‘I hate Muggles’ attitude of his earlier in life. But you, well, he’s certainly not going to rush over and ask for your autograph, but he’s never _really_ hated you.

"I wasn’t the only one who’s been forced to wear a mask these past six years, Potter. He had to wear one as well. Did you know one of the things my father expected of me was to spy on him and make sure he was actually on Voldemort’s side and not a traitor? And I’m sure I’m not the only Slytherin who had to do it, too. I just did it incredibly badly is all."

"So glad to hear it," Harry said dryly. Somehow, knowing that didn’t make up for years of abuse at Snape’s hands. "So, is he going to be all right? I remember..." he trailed off, not wanting to describe Voldemort’s pleasure at casting Crucio on Snape and others of his backers, just to keep them in line.

"As Dumbledore said, he’s survived worse and lived to tell about it; he’ll survive this too. Who knows, maybe once this is all over he can start taking care of himself again. He didn’t used to be so sallow or skinny or... well, greasy," Draco sighed, moving over to his side of the bed and sagging down on it.

"Oh, he’s never been the looker Black or your father were, but he wasn’t this bad either. He used to be healthy, before the years of spying and lying and... my father... began to take their toll. I’d like to see him smile again one day, really smile, not sneer, not smirk, just... be happy again," Draco continued, his voice going wistful with memory. "That would be nice. To be happy again and not consider death a happy alternative to living."

Harry was silent, trying to see Snape the way Draco did but utterly failing, though he did have a thought. "I could say the same for someone else in the room, and it isn’t me," he commented, raising one knee to rest his arms on it.

Draco looked over his shoulder at the Gryffindor, one eyebrow quirked in a very ‘Snape-ish’ manner. "Ah, but where would the fun be in that? Besides, I have a strong suspicion that the only way _I_ could ever be happy is if _Draco Malfoy_ were to die. You’re not the only one who has to live up, or down, to the reputation their name has. Maybe it’s just time for the Malfoys to take their curtain call and fade out of existence."

Settling back down onto the bed, facing away from Harry once more, Draco pulled the covers up to chest level before continuing. "Happily ever afters are for silly Gryffindors who save the damsels, not for the dragons that the Gryffindors have to slay in order to do so. It’s just not the way the world works."

Frowning and reaching over the pillows that were still heaped between them, Harry caught Draco by the shoulder and rolled him to his back. "That sounds remarkably like a defeatist attitude, and from what I know about you, you never give up. Why are you starting now?"

"After a night of dealing with Gryffindor optimism?" Draco asked, a wry smile twisting on his face. "You’re lucky I didn’t go out and slit my wrists. Now don’t get that look on your face, Potter; I’m not going to do anything that daft. I’m just tired and... tired, okay?" he muttered, rolling back over onto his side. _Tired of living and depressed that I know I’ll never get what I want in life is more like it,_ Draco sighed to himself.

"Don’t worry your pretty little Gryffindor head about me. I’ll be right as rain come tea time and probably snarking at you and Granger and hexing Weasel’s arse for good measure. It’s just the lack of sleep talking is all."

Raising a hand to rub absently at his scar which still held a residual ache from the dreams, Harry rolled his eyes. "It’s too late for that. you’re stuck with me as your summoneo and worrying about you; I suppose you’ll have to live with it."

"I suppose I shall at that. Dumbledore really is the meddling old fruitcake Uncle Sev always intimated he was, crazy as a loon! Anyhow, we both need to get some sleep," Draco murmured rolling over to peer over the pillows at Harry. "Will you be all right with that," he asked, indicating Harry’s scar, "or would you like me to get something for it? I promise it won’t be poison."

Not rising to the bait as he once might have, Harry shook his head and lay back down, sighing in relief as his head was cradled in the pillow beneath it. "Thanks, but no. It’ll go away eventually; I’m used to it now."

"Bloody stubborn Gryffindor," Malfoy grumbled, tossing their pillow wall out of the way so he could get closer to Potter. "Always playing noble and self-sacrificing. Don’t you ever get tired of it?" he continued to grumble as he moved around so that he was sitting with his back against the headboard right next to Harry’s head.

"Mum used to get magical migraines that would knock her into next month. She’d always have her temple massaged, said it helped stimulate blood flow and loosen tensed muscles," Draco muttered as he began to give Harry the same sort of temple massage.

"Don’t do it on purpose," Harry grumbled before sighing as his headache almost instantly lessened. "Oh, God, that feels good." Closing his eyes, he relaxed under Draco’s hands, tilting his head back to allow the other boy more access.

Biting down on his lower lip hard enough that he actually drew blood, Draco managed to suppress the whimper of lust that threatened to burst forward. Great bloody demons and devils, if he didn’t know that Potter was completely oblivious to anyone but the Cho Changs of the universe, he’d swear the other boy was being a cock tease, but Potter was the poster boy for heterosexual relations, so there was no way that he’d ever do something so...

Bloody hell, all Draco wanted to do was bend down and lick his way along that exposed column of golden flesh and then slowly unbutton the green silk that made Potter’s eyes glow like a killing curse, making sure to taste every inch of the skin he’d exposed and then... God, then he’d take Potter out, take him in his mouth and give him the blow job of the century, the one thing Draco was fairly certain that _he_ was better than Potter at.

"Draco?" Feeling the other boy’s hands still on his forehead, Harry opened his eyes, frowning when he saw an expression of what looked like pain on Malfoy’s face. "Don’t tell me you’re empathetic and picked up on what I’m feeling!" He reached up, catching Draco’s hands in his to move them from his temples.

"Unh, no, it was a... leg cramp is all; it’s gone now," Draco prevaricated. "Now lie back down, will you; the sooner you relax, the sooner we both can get some... sleep," he choked out, snatching his hands out of Harry’s. Potter was trying to kill him, Draco just knew it.

The frantic pulse Harry had felt beating under the skin of Draco’s wrists combined with his hugely dilated pupils to make Harry think. "Well, shift over behind me if you’re determined to do this," he finally said, sitting up and scooting farther down the bed to give Draco room. "It’s not relaxing in the least, listening to you moan like that, and the charley horse will just come back if you stay that way."

 _Great hairy troll bollocks! He really is trying to kill me!_ Draco thought desperately, praying that his bottoms hadn’t popped up like a circus tent. Gritting his teeth into a semblance of the Malfoy smirk, he slid down, silently groaning as silk caressed his naked skin. Why oh why hadn’t he thought ahead and actually worn knickers under his bottoms? Just because the only time he ever slept clothed was when he was at Uncle Sev’s anymore and because he was used to sleeping starkers. He really should have known better this time.

Never mind Voldemort or the other Death Eaters hunting him down and killing him for the traitor he was, he was going to expire of unrequited lust right here in bed next to Harry Cock tease Potter!

There! He’d made it down. Now all he had to do was wait for Harry to get comfortable and then...

"Mmm, better," Harry sighed, on the verge of laughing at himself because he’d never imagined anything stranger than this - himself and Draco Malfoy together in bed with his greatest rival giving him a massage.

Any other time and he’d probably have run screaming, but he was just so relaxed, he couldn’t, and, to be honest, he was enjoying the feeling of being taken care of.

Draco gritted his teeth and made his hands as gentle and soft as down. Potter had been through enough today what with his prat of a best friend and so on and so forth; the last thing he needed was to be reminded of the Weasel’s parting remarks about not getting ravished. Now if only Potter would be a good little Gryffindor and fall asleep, Draco could go and wank in the bathroom so he could possibly get some sleep himself.

Half asleep, Harry turned his face into the gentle pressure of Draco’s fingertips. He knew he shouldn’t do this, that it would open up a whole new world of things for Draco to torment him over, but, he couldn’t help it.

"Ron was right," he murmured, "you do have tricky hands."

"Talented hands. I have _talented hands_ , Potter," Draco sighed. Not that Potter would ever appreciate them the way he’d have liked the Gryffindor to but... "Go to sleep, will you? You need to rest."

Harry slowly opened his eyes to look up at Draco. "Haven’t seen that part of them yet."

"Be thankful you haven’t," Draco murmured dryly. "Stick to Chang, Potter. She’s a nice, safe _girl_. Now, do you think you can sleep now? I need to take a whiz."

Now Harry began to laugh as he sat up and turned around to face Draco across a short expanse of bed linens. "So sure you know everything about me, eh, Malfoy? Cho’s nice, and we had a lovely time when we were together, but it didn’t last; I suppose I knew all along it wouldn’t, not when..." He stopped talking; amazed he’d admitted this much.

"Not when...what? Oh, come now, _Harry_ , you can’t say something provocative like that and leave me dangling unfulfilled. It’s cruel and torturous, and we both know that torture and cruelty are more my style not yours," Draco replied a predatory smile spreading over his face. "Now, you really _must_ complete the sentence, or I might have to... get it out of you."

Harry was tempted to tell Draco to sod off, but he’d gotten himself into this mess by opening his big mouth in the first place, so he just couldn’t walk away. "When she didn’t turn me on," he finally answered. "Oh, she’s nice and sweet, and I enjoyed being with her, but when it came to more, I just... couldn’t." He felt a dull flush rise up the back of his neck and waited for Malfoy’s derisive laughter to strike like a blow. "Didn’t have that problem with the next person I went out with."

"And who was the next person you went out with?" Draco purred, watching Potter very carefully. This was getting curiouser and curiouser.

Praying he didn’t open both himself and the other boy up to a world of hurt, Harry met Draco’s gaze squarely. "Terry Boot from Ravenclaw."

"Well, I can’t fault you for your taste. He is rather nice to look at, if you like the wholesome, boy-next-door sort. Not my cup of tea but acceptable," Draco mused. "So who was the top and who was the bottom, or did you even get that far?"

Harry stared, open-mouthed. "I’m not - if you think - it’s enough I told you that; I’m not giving you details to chortle over, Malfoy!"

"Do I look like I’m chortling?" Draco asked calmly, studying his fingernails. "You know, if you need any explanations on the proper techniques of _both_ positions, I could answer your questions having been in both positions myself. Well, I don’t know all that much about the bottom position; that only happened once, and it was... unpleasant," Draco continued with a slight pained look on his face. "I suppose not consenting did make it rather less pleasant, but I can still give you the basics on how it’s done."

Instantly, all of Harry’s bluster and bravado faded, and he looked at a loss for something to do or say before finally reaching out and taking Draco’s hand in his.

"Oh, for Salazar’s sake, Potter, it’s not the end of the world," Draco replied, exasperated. "It happened, I got over it and grew stronger for it. I’m not an invalid nor do I need to be pitied," he continued, his voice frosting over. There were many things he wanted from Harry Potter, but pity was definitely not one of them. Snatching his hand back, Draco made to get off the bed.

"I thought you said you needed to get some sleep?" he asked waspishly, wanting to be back in his own room in Slytherin all of a sudden. "We’ll just forget this conversation ever happened, shall we?"

Catching Draco before he could swing his feet over the side of the bed, Harry held on tightly. "No, you said I needed some sleep; I said you needed some sleep, and there’s no way in hell you’re leaving me here alone, got it?"

"Potter, I need to go take a leak. Now you’re more than welcome to come and watch me shake my willie if you’d like, but I didn’t think I was your type." Draco sighed and turned to look at Potter. "Late nights are notoriously bad for making confessions. I’m not going anywhere but to the washroom. Let it go, will you?"

Releasing the other boy, Harry sighed, wondering why he even tried. There was no breaking through the walls Draco had erected around his innermost feelings. "Go ahead and go; Snape would have a fit if you wet the bed," he said, before adding in a quieter voice, "And I never said that."

Feeling strangely disconsolate, he lay back down in the bed and took his glasses off, doubting he’d get any more sleep that night, even with his headache gone.

In the loo Draco splashed his face with cold water and stared morosely in the mirror. Why, oh why had he brought up the incident with Flint? It had happened in second year and was long over and buried. He seemed to be suffering from a rather virulent strain of foot in mouth.

Whoever said that confession was good for the soul had to have been a Gryffindor. No self respecting Slytherin would ever have said such an asinine thing. Confession was bloody humiliating. Sighing, Draco dried his face off, flushed the toilet and made his way back into the bedroom.

"Look, Potter, I’m sorry I dumped on you. You have enough on your plate, and I doubt that’s what Dumbledore meant by being my summoneo . You’re supposed to be the one who’s guarding my back in my role as a spy, not playing at being my father confessor. I’ll try and refrain from opening my mouth and inserting my foot again," Draco mumbled after getting settled in the bed, yet again facing away from the Gryffindor.

"And don’t worry, no one will ever hear from me that you swing both ways and you did so with Boot. Both of you are safe from that sort of gossip, at least from me."

"Fine. Good night, Malfoy," Harry answered, turning to his own side and facing away from Draco, trying to will himself to sleep.

Draco waited until he heard Harry’s breathing even out and then waited another half hour before turning over and cuddling up behind the Gryffindor, giving in to his darkest and most secret desire, being with Harry Potter. He’d been aching to hold Harry all night long, and with the other boy sound asleep he could do it now and blame it on sleep in the morning.

Easing his arm over Harry’s waist, Draco tucked his head behind the Gryffindor golden boy’s. "I won’t let anything happen to you, Harry. I swear on the Malfoy name. No matter what it takes, I won’t let you die. You deserve a chance at happiness and so much more," he whispered, pressing his lips to the nape of Harry’s neck. "Whatever it takes."


	5. Chapter 5

"What happened last night, Harry? You never came back to the dorm."

Harry looked up from his lunch and shrugged. "Fell asleep and amazingly Malfoy and Snape didn’t kick me to the curb." That didn’t come near to describing what had happened, especially when Harry had woken in the morning to find himself with an armful of Draco Malfoy. Amazingly, he’d managed to extricate himself without waking the other boy and had changed and fled, thanking providence that he was able to floo out and back to the Tower before anyone else stirred. Facing Snape that early in the morning might just have done him in.

"He didn’t... try anything, did he?" Ron asked suspiciously, looking at Harry’s flushed face. "’Cause if he did, I don’t care what Dumbledore’s making you do, I’ll break every bone in his scrawny body, I will!"

"He didn’t do anything, Ron," Harry sighed, feeling amazingly stupid for regretting that fact. "He was upset about Snape, and I - I suppose I didn’t think it was right to leave him alone."

"Hunh," Ron snorted, still eyeing Harry suspiciously despite Hermione’s elbow in the ribs. "It’s Hogsmeade weekend this weekend. You want to go to Honeydukes and get some chocolate frogs and a butterbeer?" he asked after long moments. "There’s a new Chudley Cannons poster that’s come out, and I want to catch a look at it."

Draco strolled into the great hall, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, looking for all the world like the Slytherin Prince he was. Nodding once to Snape, he completely ignored the Gryffindor side of the room and made his way over to his usual spot. If one didn’t know better, he was the same Draco Malfoy he’d been for the past six years. He was cruel in his comments about Gryffindors, boorish, arrogant and a complete prat. The Slytherins ate it up. Their fearless leader was back in full force after his brief mourning period.

Letting his hair fall forward over his eyes to hide his gaze, Harry watched Draco stride toward his House table, once again the prince of Slytherin. He supposed he knew it was an act, but part of him wondered, even now.

"Sure," he nodded absently, "a butterbeer sounds grand though you’d better ask Hermione as well, or she might take Justin up on his offer to accompany her."

"What? Since when?" Ron asked, breaking off his glare at Draco to look first at Harry and then Hermione. "Hermione, you wouldn’t want to go with Justin instead of us, me I mean?" he asked nervously.

"Well, if he asked me and no one else had..." she began, catching Harry’s eye and shaking her finger at him behind Ron’s back.

"But, ‘mione, you _always_ go with me," Ron replied, confused. "Why would that ever change?"

Across the hall, Draco watched the three friends surreptitiously for as long as he could. However, when Blaise Zabini told Goyle to shove down and all but crawled into his onetime lover’s lap, Draco found his attention redirected to the Slytherin table. "Zabini," he hissed. "This is _not_ the sort of thing one does in public. Are you looking to get points taken off of Slytherin for your shameless behavior?"

Ron happened to glance over at the Slytherin table at just that moment and began to make retching noises. "Figures a tosser like Malfoy would go for Zabini. The poofter is so pretty he might as well be a girl for heaven’s sake. No doubt about it who wears the pants in that pair."

Fighting down the anger he felt at seeing Zabini crawling all over Draco, Harry shot to his feet. "See you all at the greenhouse," he snarled, stomping out of the hall, needing to get away from everyone and everything.

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I’ve a good mind to go with Justin after that."

"What? What did I do?" Ron asked, completely clueless.

~*~*~

Herbology passed as every other herbology class ever had. Draco crucified Neville and smirked when the Gryffindor sniveled and actually had the gall to snarl at Hermione when she accidentally got in his way.

"Get out of my way, filthy Mudblood, I’ve got better things to do than take another shower because of you!" he growled, silently praying that Hermione wouldn’t be offended but knowing that he had to walk very carefully with the Slytherins.

He’d come back to the Slytherin common room to find Parkinson waiting for him when he’d woken up this morning. "And just where have you been all night, Dray?" she purred. "You missed all the excitement. The dark mark appeared in the sky last night over a Muggle town not too far from here. One would think you would have been here to show support and _loyalty_ to the cause."

Draco had muttered something about bloody Gryffindors getting him in hot water and having to go to see the Headmaster, knowing that Dumbledore would back him up if asked and then mentioned something about wanting to talk to his godfather about certain matters that couldn’t be discussed anywhere but in his quarters.

Luckily, Severus _had_ informed him of what had taken place last night, so he’d had enough information to get Parkinson to back off but... it had been far too close for comfort.

While Ron muttered vile plans for what he’d do if he ever caught Draco alone and Hermione tried to calm him down, much to the surprise of the other Gryffindors, Harry pushed past the group, fighting to remind himself what he knew to be the truth and biting back the insults that he wanted to hurl at the other boy.

Draco fought the wave of despair as he watched Harry push by and lowered his eyes quickly. Parkinson wouldn’t be the only one watching him now, not if there was suspicion in the ranks. He had to get through this afternoon’s classes; that was all he could concentrate on. One thing at a time. One crisis at a time.

"Draco, are you going into Hogsmeade this weekend?" Crabbe asked, excited at the prospect of what Malfoy money could get him.

"I’ve been asked to assist Professor Snape with something he is researching," Draco replied haughtily, showing off his own importance for all to see "So I’m afraid I won’t have time for such nonsense. But you can pick some things up for me, Crabbe, and I suppose you and Goyle can get a few baubles for yourself as well."

As he left, Harry heard that last remark and mulled over the circumstances in his mind.

~*~*~

"You two go on, I’ve got make up work to finish, so I can’t stay all day. I’ll be fine. I’ve got butterbeer and some fizzing whisbees, so I won’t be missing anything." Harry held up his satchel and waved goodbye to Ron and Hermione before heading back to school and toward Professor Snape’s classroom, wondering if he’d gone insane some time over the last week.

Knocking politely on the door, he braced himself for what he was sure was going to be a rant of epic proportions on Snape’s part.

~*~*~

Draco sagged with relief as the door to the classroom banged shut behind him. Looking at his godfather, he waited until Snape nodded that it was safe and slumped into his seat. Now all they had to do was wait for Potter to show up.

"How are you holding up, Dragon?" Snape asked quietly, coming over to put an arm around his godson’s shoulders.

"You could have at least warned me how hard this spying thing is," Draco sniffled, burying his face in Snape’s robes, which smelled like of the unlikely combination of lavender and asphodel.

"It is not something I could discuss with you until you were free of your father. You know you might very well have had to..."

"No! I wouldn’t have," Draco interrupted vehemently. "Even if it meant being disowned and penniless. I... I saw too much, Uncle, knew too much. I might be a selfish, childish, spoiled little git, but I couldn’t do those things, those unspeakably evil things that I saw my father do. I just couldn’t."

"I know, Dragon. But I had to be sure; too much was at stake."

Neither heard the door creak open, a door that only one other person could get through at the moment as Snape had set his wards to allow only Potter to enter the room in light of the potion they had to work on today.

"Do you know I actually had to shag Zabini again last night?" Draco sniffed. "It’s like shagging a girl, I swear. I’m just grateful that Parkinson didn’t want me to do her too to prove my loyalty. Salazar, she still expects me to marry her once we graduate and fulfill the contract our fathers made. I’d marry Longbottom before her; hell, I’d marry _Weasel_ before her!"

Hearing that, Harry fisted his hand on the strap to the bag he was carrying, causing the bottles inside it to clink together. The two Slytherins looked up at him, but he managed to keep a bland expression, telling himself he didn’t care _who_ Malfoy shagged.

Feeling suddenly stupid for bringing the things from Hogsmeade, he set the satchel down and stiffened his spine. "So, are we going to do this or what?"

Snape’s eyebrow quirked, and he looked down his long nose. "Are you sure you want to assist us, Mr. Potter? Draco and I can manage the potion quite well on our own. After all, we wouldn’t want to inconvenience our local celebrity, now would we?"

"Ease off, Uncle Sev," Draco butted in. "He said he wanted to help, and he does."

Looking over at Harry, Draco had to ask, "Weasel probably wants to kill me, so I won’t ask how he’s doing, but... Granger knew I didn’t mean it, didn’t she? I had to put on a good show; I’m being watched rather closely now. It was the most obvious and quickest way that the others would approve of. I didn’t want to call her that but... well, let’s face it, the Draco Malfoy that everyone knows and loves to despise would do just that. Had to stay in character."

"Draco," Snape interrupted quietly. "At least it was only some spiteful name calling. You’ve never had to take a life in order to keep from being discovered. Merlyn’s protection that you never do. She’ll survive and grow stronger for it; they all will, or they’ll just be fodder for the war that is inevitable. You can’t mollycoddle the world; it’s not a nice place to be right now.

"That said, Potter, you prepare the cauldron and cutting table. Draco, fetch the more common ingredients we will need, and I’ll go into my personal stores to get the rarer ones. We haven’t all day."

"You’d have to ask Hermione how she feels," Harry said quietly. "She didn’t tell me." Not wanting to discuss it further, he walked to the storage room to get the working cauldron and the much scarred table, feeling like a work horse.

Eyeing Potter uncomfortably, Draco went over to the cabinets and began to take out the ingredients that the potion they’d uncovered needed and began laying them out neatly on the worktable. "Have... have you been sleeping all right, since the other night?" Draco asked him as he worked quietly by Harry’s side.

Harry shrugged. "Better than you it would seem," he answered, thumping the table into place and backing up so Draco could set the items he was carrying down on it.

"Why do you say that? Do I look like I haven’t been sleeping?"

"Sounded like it."

"What are you talking about, Potter? You mean about me and Zabini? Bollocks, that was over in less than an hour, and I kicked him out. No way I’d ever actually _sleep_ in the same bed as another Slytherin. I value my life far too much for that, thank you all the same." Draco replied with a snort. "Besides, it’s not like it meant anything. Just another performance by Draco the spy. Maybe I should be nominated for a Golden Witch Ball award or something."

Harry frowned, still not liking the fact that Zabini had had his hands _and mouth and dick_ all over Draco. "Order of Merlyn First Class is more fitting."

"HA!" the sound came out harsh and bitter, more bitter than Draco intended. Snape poked his head out of the storeroom and watched his godson carefully. "The Order of Merlyn First Class? That’s for anyone but a Slytherin, Potter. Be realistic. Uncle Sev will never see it for all he’s sacrificed for the cause. Oh sure, they’ll give him the Order second class, but first class? And I sure as hell won’t for sleeping with a snot-nosed, poncy boy just because his daddy wants to make sure ickle bitty Draco Malfoy is still in the ‘game’. Get real. I’ll be lucky to get out of this with all my body parts intact."

Spinning on his heel, he marched over to the supply cabinet and began to pull out the next set of ingredients with a little more force than necessary. Snape sighed and returned to his storeroom, disheartened to see that his godson was quite rapidly turning into the spitting image of the man he had become over the years - bitter and unhappy.

At that point, Harry swore to himself that if he made it through this alive, both Malfoy and Snape would get the awards they deserved. Of course, getting out of it alive was a very large if, but maybe he could talk to Dumbledore about it and make some kind of recommendation...

Of course, neither Malfoy nor Snape would welcome pity or even sympathy, so Harry snorted out a laugh. "Have some cheese with that whine, why don’t you." It was an expression he’d learned at the Dursleys’, so he doubted Draco had ever heard it before, but he was smart; he’d get the meaning.

"What are you..." Draco began and then cocked his head slightly. "Muggle?" he guessed. "They just get more and more peculiar as I learn more about them. What an odd sort of thing to say. Having cheese with one’s wine is very... plebian, unless of course it’s the correct wine and the cheese is either a dessert cheese or an appetizer... oh, did you mean _whine_ as in whinge?"

Harry applauded sarcastically. "Five points to Slytherin for knowledge of Muggle Studies."

"Having never taken Muggle Studies, you’re lucky I guessed it at all," Draco replied with a haughty sniff. "My father wouldn’t allow it. He said, and I quote, ‘The only thing you will ever need to know about Muggles is that they scream before they die.’ End quote. Charming fellow, my father," he continued, his voice quavering slightly before hardening once more. He would not let Lucius do this to him; he would not let the pain of a father’s betrayal destroy him.

"Amazingly, they sound just like wizards and witches. I suppose he never took notice of that."

"Apparently not, well, either that or he would use a silencing spell on wizarding folk. Apparently he had some small modicum of a conscience after all, not much and it was more to spare himself from the noise, no doubt, but he had it." Draco shrugged and pulled out the potions book that contained the concoction they were to create, rereading it one last time so that he had the ingredients memorized exactly.

"He may have, but Voldemort doesn’t," Harry murmured, neatening piles of herbs that were already meticulously spaced out.

"Quite true, Potter. Now if you both would be so kind as to begin with the herbs," Snape said, whirling into the lab, robe flaring behind him. "These and these need to be chopped, those minced, those ones simply stripped off their stems, and those diced. We will need fresh chopped shrivelfig as well as one ashwinder egg and some essence of lavender to start. Now hop to it, both of you, we haven’t all day!"

Harry blinked in surprise. "You actually want me to work on this?" he asked.

"Would I have requested your presence here otherwise, Potter?" Snape sneered and then relented after a look from Draco. "Very well, yes, I want you to work on this potion with us, Potter," Snape said as politely as he could before turning to Draco. "You’re developing some rather unsettling Gryffindor-like tendencies, Dragon, not letting me have any fun like that."

Draco smiled. "Well, it’s rather hard not to, having been surrounded by the three worst culprits for some time now. Rather like you act strangely after having spent too much time with Dumbledore and McGonagall."

Harry managed to swallow back a laugh that surely would have lost Gryffindor half their points. "So, so we just need to get Crabbe and Goyle to drink a bit of this potion, and we’ll be able to know where they are at all times, right?" He was pretty sure that was how Hermione explained it to him and wasn’t she going to be brassed off that they’d made it without her.

"Pretty much," Draco agreed, casting a glance at his godfather. Truth be told the real reason why Potter was here was so that Snape could insist that he test the potion out on Potter first. Which in turn meant that Draco would be able to track Potter if he were to go and do something ‘Gryffindorish’. Even Dumbledore agreed to this particular course of action, so it was pretty obvious that Draco wasn’t the only one who suspected Harry might go off on his own and get himself blown up or something.

As Harry chopped the shrivelfig, he nodded. "So we’ll all be able to tell where they are, or is it keyed to one person?"

"There has to be a ‘contribution’ from each target, much the same way as with the polyjuice potion. A potion I’m quite sure you’re somewhat familiar with, Mr. Potter, hmmm?" Snape smirked as he reached over and plucked a few hairs right from the top of Harry’s head, ignoring the sound of protest.

"Now this is a rather ingenious spell. It lasts for up to a month, and it cannot be flushed from the system by any means, nor is it detectable. This potion is, in fact, borderline dark magic. There is a component spell to it, but that spell is cast upon the ‘tracker’ so that they can follow their target and be constantly aware of what said target is doing. I’m somewhat surprised that Ms. Granger would willingly consider using such a potion," Snape continued, a new sort of respect in his voice.

"Potter, you will be our guinea pig for this demonstration. Draco, you shall be the hunter. Now, back to work."

Having flushed at Snape’s reminder of the whole fiasco with the polyjuice potion, Harry almost missed what he said afterward, but at the last he balked. "What? Shouldn’t we try it on someone we really want to track?"

"Because, Mr. Potter, you are here, and as Draco is going to be the one casting the tracking spell on Crabbe and Goyle, he will need to learn how to do so. And _I_ wish to observe a controlled experiment to make sure it works before field testing it. Are you arguing with my methods?" Snape growled menacingly. "Five points from Gryffindor for impertinence!"

"But..." Harry figuratively bit his tongue. "Fine."

"So nice to know you agree with me, Potter," Snape replied dryly as he began to mix the base for the potion.

Draco calmly continued chopping his portion of the ingredients, making sure his face remained carefully neutral. The last thing he wanted was for Potter to suspect that he had been the one to instigate this little controlled test. "All done, Uncle Sev, what do I do next?"

Barely acknowledging the others, Harry continued to chop, mince, mix and do whatever else he was instructed to do, his mind whirling as he tried to find a way around having Draco know his whereabouts every second of the day. No one was going to get hurt because of him again, and for certain, no one was going to die.

When Snape at last judged the potion ready, he poured out the proper measure and handed it to Potter. "Down the hatch, Potter. It needs about half an hour to work into your system. Well, what are you waiting for, boy?"

Knowing he couldn’t stall any longer, Harry took the mug and gulped its contents down, relieved to find that the liquid didn’t taste quite as horrific as many others he’d tasted. "So do I need to stay here until it takes effect?" he asked.

"I would prefer it, yes, so I can monitor you. I will need to know if there are any side effects that can be detected by the one ingesting the potion. Though in the case of Crabbe and Goyle that is very unlikely, the amount of rubbish those two consume," Snape replied derisively, "so if you have homework, which I know you do - potions at least - now would be the ideal time to do it."

Groaning, Draco dutifully pulled out his potions book and parchment. A ten-inch essay on the various applications and uses for bubotubor pus, not including the cure for acne, how delightful! Glancing at Harry, he gave the other boy a wan smile. "Well, think of it this way, at least you’ll be able to shock Granger by having it done and won’t have to listen to her nag you to finish in time," he offered.

"No," Harry sighed, knowing Draco wasn’t at fault in this matter and trying not to take his annoyance out on him, "I’ll just have to listen to her quiz me on what we did here. Maybe you can explain it, you’ll do a hell of a lot better then I will."

Looking around, he realized he hadn’t brought anything to write with or on. "Have a spare quill and parchment I can borrow? Mine are all back in the dorm."

Reaching silently into his book bag, Draco pulled out another sheet of parchment and another sugarquill, one of his personal weaknesses, as he liked to suck on the tip of his quill between writing. Moving the ink well between them, he flashed Harry a quick grin before beginning to write.

Snape watched all of this with mild curiosity. Draco wouldn’t be stupid enough to fall in love with Potter, would he?"

"Thanks," Harry murmured, looking down at the blank sheet but finding himself distracted by the way Draco was sucking on his quill. Tearing his gaze away, he thought of anything he could to dispel the sudden and painful erection he’d developed from the sight of Draco’s thin, aristocratic lips wrapped around the writing implement. _Dementors, Voldemort, Snape in a dress..._ Thankfully that combination did the trick, and he vowed to keep from looking back at Draco no matter what.

Murmuring softly to himself, Draco shifted slightly in his seat, his arm brushing against Harry’s. Nibbling on the tip of his sugarquill for a moment, he began to jot down the first part of his essay in his elegant script, intent on getting the words correct.

Dipping the sugarquill back into the ink, he continued until the first flow of words was complete. With a satisfied smile, he laid the quill down and stretched massively, his back arching over the back of the chair and his shirt riding up to expose a thin patch of taut stomach.

 _Don’t look, don’t look, don’t..._ Harry canted a glance to the side and bit back a moan at the sight of Draco’s exposed stomach. Setting the quill down rather more carefully than he would have one of his own, he stood and moved away to pace restlessly around the room.

"Is something the matter, Potter?" Snape asked, having witnessed the whole scene with a resigned sort of amusement. "A side effect of the potion perhaps? Agitation, the flushed features and the nervous energy, perhaps? Or is that a condition of some other... stimulus?"

Harry turned, glaring darkly at Snape. "Potter in a tizzy, it’s quite amusing, isn’t it? I’m surprised something wasn’t included about having no brain as I’m not able to sit still for any length of time. You know what, let’s really test this thing out, yes? If it works, you come find me, if not, then I suppose we’re back to square one. Oh, and enjoy the butterbeer." Saying that, he slammed out of the workroom, neither knowing or caring how many points Snape docked Gryffindor for his outburst.

Snape waited a few heartbeats then burst out into rusty laughter. He hadn’t been this amused in... in almost a lifetime. "Best go after him, Dragon, use the locator spell. I’ll take care of cleaning up the mess and make sure your homework is sent back. Oh, and take the butterbeer with you, can’t stand the stuff."

Looking at his godfather as if the man had finally qualified for a room at St. Mungo’s, Draco pulled his wand out and pointed it at himself, muttering the spell. Picking up the satchel, he followed Harry out the door, letting the spell guide him outside, past the whomping willow and all the way to the quidditch pitch where he found Harry sitting in one of the stands, hurling stones with all his might.

Sitting down next to him, he muttered a cooling charm on the satchel and then took the two bottles out. "Butterbeer?" he asked mildly.

"So we can toast your successful leash?" Harry shot back.

"Actually I was thinking more along the lines of being the first Gryffindor in recent memory to actually have the nerve to tell Snape off and live to tell about it," Draco replied in the same mild tone. "I stand corrected, I don’t deserve the Golden Witch Ball, you do. That was quite the performance!"

"I’m sure next time I look at the House point tally, Gryffindor will be in the negative numbers," Harry answered, holding out his hand for the drink and talking a long swig of it. "So, was it easy to track me with that?"

"Actually, and if you ever tell another living soul, he _will_ remove enough house points that your Gryffindor great-grandchildren will be in negative points, he laughed his arse off. I can’t remember the last time I saw him do that. Thank you," Draco replied with a fond smile.

He paused to consider his next answer. The very fact that Harry was asking about the ease of the tracking potion tipped him off that perhaps Hogwarts’ resident celebrity was more interested in how it would track him as opposed to how it would track Crabbe and Goyle.

So Draco did what he did best, he lied. "Actually it was much easier tracking you by sound. Really, Potter, how have you managed to do all those illegal things you have when you sound like a herd of erumpents stampeding? You really need to master the art of walking silently.

"As for the potion, Uncle Sev feels that Crabbe and Goyle will need a stronger dose for it to be really effective." _But that’s because they’re behemoths and you’ve got the deliciously sleek and slender body of a seeker,_ Draco thought with no little appreciation for Harry’s physique. Not that Harry needed to know that little detail; chances were he’d think the potion less effective if he thought the dose needed to be increased.

Unable to stop himself from giving a small chuckle at the unbelievable thought of Snape hysterical with laughter, Harry took another drink from his bottle. "So you’re telling me you heard me here on the pitch from Snape’s lab? You are hanging around with us too much if your lying is getting that bad."

"Potter, I heard you stampeding up the dungeon stairs when I left the potions lab, clattering across the main foyer when I reached the top of the stairs, stomping down the front steps as I crossed the main hall, and from there it was easy. Kind of hard to miss the Gryffindor red and gold scarf waving like a banner in the breeze as you trekked out here, you know. Besides, where else would the youngest seeker in a century go to mope other than the quidditch pitch, while outside that is? If you’d remained indoors, you’d have ended up in either the Astronomy tower or Gryffindor tower. Am I right?" Draco queried.

Harry glowered. "Sorry to be so predictable. Would you care to try again to see if I can provide some kind of challenge for your other-worldly Slytherin intellect?"

Draco quirked one silvery eyebrow. "Well, if you feel so intimidated by Slytherin intellect, perhaps we should try and communicate the Gryffindor way. Physically." And with that Draco finally gave in and pressed his lips against Harry’s hungrily, wanting to taste the Gryffindor Golden Boy and his own personal raison d’etre.

Stunned by this turn of events, Harry sat stock still for a moment before instincts kicked in and he reacted. The bottle of butterbeer fell to the ground below the stands as his hands rose to grab at Draco’s robe, holding the other boy into a kiss that had started out taunting but now changed to something animal and wild.

Groaning at the unleashed passion in Potter’s delicious assault, Draco wondered distractedly if he’d let loose a demon upon his person, not that he was complaining; Potter could maul him any day of the week and every bloody weekend too!

Deciding that surrendering was what he wanted to do at the moment, Draco softened his lips and wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, fingers finally getting to card through the black silk of the other teen’s hair.

Taking control of the kiss, Draco pulled Harry closer and all but crawled into Potter’s lap. He straddled the Gryffindor, his knees braced on the bench on either side of Harry’s hips, taking the dominant position in the kiss. This allowed for Draco to make Harry’s head tilt back as well as caused the rest of Potter’s body to lean back against the bleacher seat behind them.

Using gravity and the placement of their bodies to his advantage, Draco began to grind down on Harry’s prick, feeling it thicken and lengthen within the confines of his regulation school trousers. Nipping and sucking on Harry’s lower lip, Draco peeled Harry’s glasses off and let them drop. Draco wondered, his brain swirling with a fugue of lust and need, if he had ever _wanted_ this badly before in his life. The need was a sharp ache, almost like being the recipient of a Crucio. He didn’t realize he had begun to whimper with frustrated hunger as he tried to get closer, delve deeper, taste more, feel everything.

Harry moaned, lust burning along his nerves like a lightning strike. He could feel Draco on top of him, pressing down onto him as if trying to melt into him. A frantic thought that he was making out with _Draco Malfoy_ skittered across Harry’s brain, only to be replaced by the terrifying knowledge that there was no one else he’d rather be with.

Frustrated by the layers between them, Harry released Draco’s robe and shoved his hands beneath that and the other boy’s jumper and shirt, finding cool, silky flesh covering taut muscle. Draco groaned at that touch, and Harry took advantage of the slight reprieve from his voracious kiss to launch an assault of his own, probing Malfoy’s mouth, learning his taste and the texture of his tongue and teeth.

 _This is what it is to truly fly,_ Draco thought vaguely as his mouth fell open to Harry’s attack. It was like executing the perfect Wronski Feint or catching the Snitch, that flash of victory, the knowledge that nothing could ever replace this moment and this feeling.

Fast on the heels of that thought came another one; he, Draco Malfoy, was out with _Harry Potter_. In public. And students would be coming back from Hogsmeade soon. Damnation!

Reluctantly Draco peeled his lips off of Harry’s and looked down into the lust-flushed face beneath his. "You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life," Draco whispered, his voice rough from the strain of denying himself what he wanted and his lips swollen and bee stung. "I never want this to end; I want to touch you everywhere, taste you. I want to hear you cry out when I swallow your prick down my throat and suck you off. I want to eat you alive," Draco growled.

"But we have to stop, Merlyn protect me from going mad, we have to, before someone sees us," Draco moaned, writhing against the other teen. "Too ‘ much is at stake much I want younow to take these risks.

"But make no mistake, this isn’t over, Potter. I _will_ have you - hard, aching and hungry beneath me, calling out my name as if it were the only thing to save you from going mad with need. And I will be the only thing to save you."’

"And then, Harry, you will have me. Any and every way you want. I want you to... I’ve never wanted anyone to _have_ me, not since Flint and that night in the broomshed, but I want you to have me. I want to give myself to you, if you’ll take me."

It took a long moment for Harry to focus, first on Draco’s face, then on his words. He swallowed a hysterical laugh as he listened to the other boy’s heated explanation, wondering for a brief instant if this was all some complicated plot to drive him starkers.

"If?" he finally managed to get out. " _If_? My god, Malfoy, if you haven’t figured that out by now, you’re blind." He bucked upward enough to rub his aching erection against Draco’s, cursing the layers between them.

"Far be it from me to assume that the eminently shaggable Harry Potter would deign to actually want humble Slytherin me," Draco moaned, still able to maintain his sarcasm, biting his lip hard in response to the wave of lust that coursed through his veins like the most potent of poisons.

"And for Merlyn’s sake, my name is Draco, you git, at least when we’re alone or around Granger and the Weasel. Any other time it’s better I remain Malfoy until... well until," the Slytherin continued, reluctantly climbing off of Harry’s lap and beginning to right himself while glancing about to see if they’d been spotted yet.

When he was at last looking close to his normal cool self (apart from the ravaged lips), he glanced sardonically at Harry. "If you stay there like that long enough, Granger and Weasley are going to come looking for you, and then after getting a proper bellowing at from Weasley about protecting your virtue from a slimy Slytherin with tricky hands, you’ll get a lecture from Hermione while the Weasel hunts me down and tries to do heinous things to my person. Not that I mind knowing that I made you looked that debauched and luscious."

Picking up his bottle of butterbeer and draining half of it, he offered the other half to Harry. "Oh and Potter, you still have your invisibility cloak, correct? And you know how to get into Slytherin? And, I assume, you know where the prefect’s rooms are located? The password to get into mine is Patronus." And with that Draco ambled off, making his way back to Slytherin House.

Harry sat where he was, unable to catch his breath, wondering if his legs would support him when he stood or if he’d fall flat over on his face. Draco had vanished from sight before Harry finally realized his glasses were missing and that he probably looked totally debauched - but not debauched enough, damnit!

Groaning, he sat up and felt around for his glasses, finally finding them farther down the bench. Setting them on his face, he raked his hands through his hair then touched his swollen lips, still tasting Draco in his mouth.

"God, what am I doing?" he murmured, looking up at the reddening sky, then laughing. Oh, he knew what he was doing, and what he was going to do, that was what terrified him.


	6. Chapter 6

_Two weeks later_

Following Morag MacDougal into the Slytherin common room was one of the hardest things Harry had ever done in his life, but he wasn’t going to let common sense talk him out of his plan.

Keeping his father’s cloak clasped tightly around him, he wove through the gossiping Slytherins and settled himself in a corner, curious as to what went on in the dungeon when the House members were out of sight of the rest of Hogwarts. Draco wasn’t here yet, and Harry knew he was taking a risk by doing this, but in the weeks since they had kissed, he’d thought of little else, even in the light of more frequent attacks by Voldemort’s followers.

"Do you think Draco will do it? Defy his mother, I mean. I heard she’s dead set against losing her son too after what our lord did to her husband. "" one fourth year asked, his voice at that awkward cracking stage so he sounded high and skittish one second and low and confident the next.

"He will if he knows what’s good for him," came the immediate retort of an older student.

"Did you hear the row he and Blaise had last night?"

"Hear it? I wouldn’t be surprised if the Gryffindorks heard it! Imagine the nerve of Zabini, questioning Draco as to why he looked well snogged. But I guess that just goes to prove what they’re saying about Draco and Zabini really isn’t true."

"Oh please, Blaise is a trollop, and Draco is a gorgeous sexy man. If it’s offered, why shouldn’t he take it, especially since Zabini was practically begging for it?" One of the Slytherin girls snorted in derision.

The door to Slytherin opened, and Draco sauntered in followed by his bodyguards, looking every inch the cool Slytherin scion. Stopping in front of a huge leather chair, he glared at the second year who had dared to sit in his seat.

Taking the hint, the poor boy quickly scuttled out of the way, and Draco ensconced himself. "So, what are we gossiping about tonight? The weather, my becoming a Death Eater? Or my sexual habits perhaps?" he asked calmly, examining his nails.

"The answer is it’s raining, I will serve he to whom I am loyal in whatever capacity he may request of me, and prolific. Any other questions?"

Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, feeling a giddy rush of happiness at hearing that Draco had tossed Zabini aside. _God, I’m acting like a total git,_ he sighed to himself as he edged along the wall toward the stairs to the dorms, carefully stepping around Crabbe and Goyle, who stood flanking either side of Draco’s chair.

Once he’d made it up the stairs and to the prefect’s rooms, Harry relaxed somewhat, crossing his fingers that he picked the right door as he walked up to the first and whispered the password Draco had given him.

Doing his proper Slytherin duty, Draco held court for the next half hour, reigning over school and Death Eater gossip and keeping a sharp eye on those who were watching him. There was no room for error in this little game of cat and mouse he was playing.

If Dumbledore thought that just because they were students, they wouldn’t know how or couldn’t get enough power behind an unforgivable, then he was sadly mistaken. Many of them, himself included, had practically been weaned on killing curses and the dark arts. Such was the fate of a child, especially an _heir,_ , of one of the followers of Voldemort.

When his self-allotted time was up, Draco rose languidly from his chair and waved to Crabbe and Goyle. "I’m turning in early; this time I plan on making Potter eat dirt instead of catching the snitch in his mouth," he smirked evilly, referring to the next day’s quidditch match. "Wonder what the Gryffindorks will say when they see my new Firebolt Mach III?"

~*~*~

Having spent the past half hour trying semi-successfully not to snoop around Draco’s room, Harry had finally settled himself on the bed to leaf through an old copy of ‘Quidditch Weekly’. As far as diversions, it didn’t provide much, but it was better than nothing - or doing something totally rash such as looking through Malfoy’s knickers.

"I’m such a bloody pervert," he sighed, hearing the sound of Draco’s voice outside the door. Realizing the other boy might not be alone, Harry dove for his cloak, getting it over himself just before the door opened. Getting caught by one of the other Slytherins would take a lot of explaining, and that he wanted to avoid.

Letting the door swing silently shut behind him, Draco proceeded to put one of the strongest locking spells he knew on it, warded it so that only a _real_ problem that would require the prefect would trigger an alert, and then after that came the layers of anti-spy spells and silencing charms. The last thing he wanted was another night of Zabini trying to crawl into his bed, nauseating little git. How he thought he was anything but a second rate slut Draco didn’t know and really didn’t care to find out.

Hanging his robe up in the closet, Draco yanked down his school tie, undid the first few buttons at the throat, pulled the dress shirt out of his slacks and toed off his shoes, all in the space of seconds. With a grateful sigh he let himself move toward the comfort of his rather large bed. One of the perks of being a Malfoy, no one blinked when you conjured yourself a king-sized bed, claiming it was the only way you could possibly get a good night’s sleep.

Swallowing hard as he watched some of the tension leave Draco’s shoulders after he warded the door, Harry stepped silently forward, shedding the cloak and stopping Malfoy before he could drop to the bed. "Looks like you need some help there," he murmured, un-knotting the silver and green tie and pulling it from around Draco’s neck. His own clothes were much more casual, jeans and a soft, faded t-shirt, but then, he hadn’t been holding court for his lackeys.

"H-Harry?" Draco stuttered, "Bloody hell, you nearly took ten years off of my life. Not that I mind or anything," he continued. "What are you doing here? Again, not a problem but... I guess I just didn’t expect it."

"Because we have a quidditch game tomorrow?" Harry asked, smiling slightly. "Considering we’ll probably both be too sore to do anything the way we bash each other around when we’re playing, what better night than this?"

"Because I thought you’d change your mind," Draco admitted softly. "Once Weasley and the other Gryffindors started in on their Draco bashing, that is," he finished, looking away, a slight blush tinting the pale ivory skin of his cheeks.

"Well, that and the way Zabini’s been carrying on. As if... as if we were lovers."

"Zabini’s an arse," Harry sighed, beginning to work on the buttons that held Draco’s shirt closed. "What my House says about you can’t be any worse than what your House says about me; do you pay it any attention?" As he spoke, Harry pushed the fine cotton shirt off Draco’s shoulders, realizing that the other boy hadn’t known he was here so the spell must only be active when he was concentrating on it.

Filing that bit of information away, Harry slid his hands down Draco’s arms, feeling the clenching of his biceps. "But I didn’t come here to talk about Zabini or Ron or quidditch."

"What did you come here for then?" Draco purred, finally relaxing enough to enjoy having a warm, sexy Harry bent on seduction peeling his clothes off and doing unspeakable things to his person. "Let me guess, you’re here to talk about the potion for the behemoths. No? Then perhaps you’re here to discuss being Draco Malfoy’s love slave for all eternity?"

Harry smiled and leaned in to nip at Draco’s throat. "That last one could be a possibility, though I could be here to interview you for the position as _my_ love slave."

"Draco Malfoy a love slave? HA!" the silvery blond retorted with a completely Lucius-like sneer. "Although I might be willing to negotiate, depending on what you have to offer me. I _am_ expensive."

"Should I have a Gringotts goblin fill you in on my account balance?" Harry asked dryly, now beginning to tug at Draco’s undershirt, baring his stomach.

"For... for starters," Draco breathed, his head falling back on his shoulders at the first touch of Harry’s quidditch-callused hands on his stomach. "Oh Merlyn," he moaned. "I have a confession to make, Harry."

Harry cocked his head to the side, the expression in his eyes hidden by his glasses. "If you tell me Zabini is coming up here for another shag, you’re dead."

"Well, it does have something to do with Zabini," Draco admitted, having the good grace to color and then clear his throat nervously. "The reason why he was so peeved and possessive was because that night, after the quidditch bleachers, he was waiting for me, and I was actually relieved to do my ‘duty’, so to speak, due to a certain emerald-eyed enchanter who left me aching. The problem was it wasn’t Zabini’s name I called out at, well, at a critical moment. It was yours. Had to smudge his memory a bit so that he doesn’t remember what name I called, just that I called one that wasn’t his but..." Draco trailed off, blushing.

Harry blinked, his hands stilling on Draco’s abdomen. "You got Zabini, and I got my hand... Think I got the better end of the bargain there."

"I think you’re right," Draco laughed, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck and tumbling them both to the bed. "He’s nothing but a little slut intent upon sleeping his way to the top of the pile. I absolutely refused to let his lips so much as touch mine; it was entirely too repulsive a thought. After all I have no idea where they’ve been! Thank Hades for the public blow up he instigated. Now I never have to tolerate him again. But enough about tarts and trollops, what’s the pure-hearted Gryffindor got in mind for me, I want to know?"

"Pure-hearted?" Harry laughed incredulously. "You have to be joking. Do you know this morning, when you were giving your diatribe on the quality of students Hogwarts allowed in this term, all I wanted to do was to lay you out on the table in the Great Hall, cover you in strawberry jam, and lick it off?

"As for what I have in mind... I do believe you listed quite a lot of things you wanted to do last time we spoke. What say we get through those first, then see what’s left."

"I’m allergic to strawberry jam. Now if you said cherry preserves or passion fruit jelly, you’d have a deal," Draco smirked before rolling on top of Harry. "Who’d have thought it? The Gryffindor Golden Boy is a great perv. I’m intrigued, amazed, and incredibly turned on. Harry Potter a deviant, my life just got eminently more interesting!"

"So glad I can provide you with excitement," Harry said dryly.

"Potter, you’ve been my main source of excitement since the day you took my offer of friendship and rammed it back down my throat all those years ago. Well, excitement and hate and dreams of revenge and humiliation and doing depraved things to you and..." Draco trailed off with a smirk before licking a path down Harry’s cheek to nibble at his neck.

Harry was panting softly by this time. "I’m hoping we’re aiming for the last item on that list tonight," he gasped, again pushing Draco’s undershirt out of the way to get to the warm skin of his back.

"Refresh my memory," Draco purred, his own hands busily rucking up Harry’s shirt so he could get at the pebbled nipples that had been taunting him through the thin cotton of the other teen’s shirt. "What was the last thing on the list, again?" he murmured before diving in and capturing one with his mouth.

"D-doing depraved things to me," Harry rasped, arching up into the wet suction of Draco’s lips on his chest. He threaded his fingers through the other boy’s silver-blond hair and held on tight, knowing he was in for a wild ride tonight and reveling in the thought.

"You mean more depraved than this?" Draco smirked before kissing his way down the center of Harry’s torso, taking long moments to explore the Gryffindor’s navel with his tongue.

Harry managed to push up to his elbows so he could watch Draco’s progress, his jeans growing tighter with every inch Malfoy slid lower. "If that’s what a Slytherin calls depraved, I feel sorry for you," he managed to get out.

"You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Scarhead," Draco chuckled right before doing a bit of wandless magic and sending an icy breeze over the skin he’d just bathed with his tongue. "I was trying to be, what’s the Muggle term - ummm, caramel? For you."

"Caramel?" Harry frowned even as he shivered from the chill against his skin. "I think you mean vanilla, and even I’ve gotten past that stage, Malfoy." Deciding to up the ante himself, Harry flipped them both over so he was the one on top.

"Oh really? well, tell you what, why don’t you demonstrate to me the length and girth of your knowledge," Draco purred, his hand reaching between Harry’s legs to massage the Gryffindor’s erection, "and then I’ll formulate a plan on upping the ante on your level of depravity from there."

That said Draco reached up, tangled his hand in Harry’s hair and pulled him down for a breath-stealing kiss.

Not thinking about the fact that he was certain in this case that Draco knew much more then he did, even considering his experiences with Terry, Harry flattened himself out over Draco’s body, rocking against the hard length beneath him as the two of them passed domination of the kiss back and forth.

After long, breathless moments, Draco finally broke the kiss with a wicked smile. "Well, that was... informative. Don’t worry, little Gryffindor. The big, bad Slytherin will debauch you thoroughly and make sure you leave here reeking of sex and looking ravished, just to give your fellow Gryfs something to speculate about."

Rolling them over so that he was on top of Harry once more, Draco resumed his nibbling path downwards, except this time he didn’t stop. Agile fingers soon had Harry’s jeans undone, and Draco pulled them off as he slithered down from the bed to his knees. Gazing up the length of his lover’s torso, he licked his lips hungrily. "You’re a feast, Harry, an absolute, fucking feast," he sighed appreciatively as he tugged the jeans and boxers off completely.

Tugging the Gryffindor to the edge of the bed, Draco spread Harry’s thighs wide and wedged himself between them. "Did you know, _Harry_ ," Draco said pointedly, a silent admonishment for the other boy to use his given name, "that there are some snakes in the world who have the capacity to swallow a man whole? You may think this is a disgusting method of foreplay, but there is a reason why I draw your attention to it," Draco continued in a nonchalant voice.

"And the reason is, _I’m_ one of those snakes." That said the blond Slytherin began to slowly swallow Harry’s cock until he could feel his nose brush against the dark curls at its base. Undulating his throat muscles around the object in his throat, Draco began to bob his head up and down, increasing the length of each stroke until he was almost pulling off of Harry’s cock entirely before sinking back down again.

Biting down on the fist he shoved in his mouth to keep from screaming in pleasure, Harry realized he was out of his depth here, seriously out of his depth. He didn’t care though he probably should have.’

The rhythmic pulse of Draco’s throat around Harry’s shaft as he swallowed was an unrelenting goad, and the Gryffindor whimpered, bucking upward each time the other boy pulled back, needing more, until, frantically, he buried his fingers in Draco’s hair and pulled him down, while at the same time arching up erraticallyinto Malfoy’s mouth.

Raking his teeth lightly across the pulsating flesh in his mouth, Draco simply relaxed his throat more and let Harry fuck his face. He hadn’t known that the Gryffindor would be this desperate from a simple blowjob, and it was an endearing thing to discover. And Harry said he wasn’t vanilla, Draco thought to himself in amusement.

Deciding that if he wanted to have any vocal chords left, he would have to make Harry come soon, Draco cupped the Gryffindor’s glorious arse in his hands and slowly spread his cheeks apart.

Thanking whatever dark gods watched over him that he’d carelessly dropped the lube on this side of the bed that last time with Zabini, Draco scrabbled blindly and found the unbreakable vial of clear liquid. Pouring some into his hand, he quickly slicked up a finger and then began to stroke Harry’s anus, lightly at first and then more firmly, pressing against it a little harder with each pass until his index finger finally began to sink inside the hot channel.

"Fuck... Draco... so damn..." Harry’s voice trailed off to a needy whine as he felt himself penetrated. With Terry it had been more a case of mutual fumbling and groping, but this... this was heaven.

Draco’s finger pressed farther into his body, and Harry bit back a shout of pleasure. He twisted upward, his back arching off the sheets as his whole body tightened, spiraling downward to a place where the only thing that existed was the glorious feeling of Draco’s mouth on him and the gleam in the other boy’s molten silver eyes.

A crook of the finger inside him and Harry exploded, thrusting as far into Draco’s mouth as possible, his fingers tightening cruelly in the fair hair they were knotted in as he came; full of the glorious knowledge that part of himself was now in Draco forever.

Swallowing rapidly so as not to miss a drop, Draco didn’t even wince as his hair was pulled hard. He kept brushing his finger back and forth over Harry’s prostate, wanting to make it last, make the other teen crazy. When at last Harry collapsed bonelessly back onto the bed, Draco slid his finger out reluctantly but still continued to nurse at the other boy’s cock until he was completely soft.

Finally releasing it, Draco climbed onto the bed and crawled up Harry’s body to look down at his lover and former enemy. Harry was beginning to take on that debauched look, but it was nowhere near as obvious as Draco wanted it. He wanted Potter to look _owned_ , even if no one guessed that Draco was the owner. He wanted a public claim on the other boy, a visible reminder that Draco had him and intended to keep him.

With that in mind the silver blond Slytherin dipped his head and took the flesh of Harry’s throat into his mouth and began to suckle. He could feel the blood move under the skin, flow to the area he was nursing on, knew that the skin was turning from golden tan to dusky rose to the color of old blood and finally the vivid red of a crimson black rose. There on Harry’s neck, just above where the collar of a school shirt would sit, was Draco Malfoy’s mark for the entire world to see. Drawing back at last, he spent long moments brushing his finger over it, admiring his artistry. "Mine," he purred in a voice dripping with satisfaction.

Smiling giddily, his mind still a blank from his climax, Harry could only nod and stroke his hands over Draco’s arms. When his brain finally engaged again, he felt the heat of the hickey Malfoy had raised on his throat and shook his head, chuckling. "Your own personal mark, eh?"

Realizing that Draco was still mostly clothed while he was nude except for his socks, Harry began to frown even as he reached for Draco’s undershirt, pulling it up and over his head before beginning to work on the soft leather belt that circled his waist. "And you have way too much on for what we discussed," he mused, stroking the backs of his fingers over the bulge alongside Draco’s fly.

"If I could be assured that the entire population of Gryffindor tower wouldn’t rise up and massacre me, I’d have put a more permanent ‘personal mark’ on you, Potter," Draco growled, grabbing Harry’s hand and holding it still. "If you keep doing that, I _won’t_ be able to do what we discussed. Hellfires, you’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, you know that?

"However, since you’ve so obviously offered," Draco’s eyes sparked with silver fire, "why don’t you see about ridding me of what stands in the way? You do know how to take a bloke’s trousers off, don’t you?"

"Considering I am a bloke and I wear trousers, the answer would be yes in that regard," Harry scoffed, sitting up and pushing the other teen to his feet, unable to keep from smirking at the fact that his touch had Draco close to losing control.

Leaning in, Harry mouthed the taut skin over Draco’s stomach, feeling the muscles ripple against his lips as he undid Malfoy’s belt, then the button and zipper holding his trousers closed. Tilting his head upward, Harry met Draco’s gaze as he slowly pushed the gray trousers down over his trim hips and past his thighs and calves to pool over his feet.

Drawing his eyes downward again, Harry licked his lips at the sight of Draco’s erection tenting the fabric of his boxers, leaving a wet spot on the emerald green silk. "So you always coordinate your knickers with your clothes?" he chuckled, blowing on the damp spot, then leaning closer to lick at it, feeling Draco’s cock twitch beneath the cloth.

"Actually," Draco husked, "I coordinated them with your eyessssssoh Merlyn, Harry!" Draco moaned, his hands sliding through the Gryffindor’s hair. "If you want me to fuck you, you really have to stop doing that. Or you can keep doing that and then get me hard again, not that it would be any great difficulty considering how long I’ve wanted you and how much," the Slytherin panted, pulling his lover’s head back and looking down into the bespectacled eyes.

"You’ve still got your glasses on," Draco realized suddenly, his fingers moving to lift the arms of the spectacles up and then whispering a quiet Leviosa to send them soaring over to his night table. "Much better, now I can see your pretty eyes without any interference."

"Pretty eyes?" Harry snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me you did not just say I had pretty eyes."

"Oh but I did," Draco purred, his hand caressing Harry’s cheek and tracing the fullness of his lips. "Beautiful eyes, mesmerizing even. As fatal to me as an Avada Kedavra."

Said eyes rolled heavenward. "Beautiful, mesmerizing, I believe this is on top of calling me an emerald-eyed enchanter on the pitch. Careful, Draco, or I’ll start to think you’re a closet romantic." Quirking a smile up at the other teen, Harry caught Draco’s fingers between his lips, lashing them with his tongue. "I’m a Malfoy, Potter, everything thing I do is over the top, haven’t you figured that out yet?" Draco chuckled, a sound that turned into a moan. "Oh fuck, Harry. You look like... that’s how you’d look if your lips were..." Draco swallowed, his eyes dilating with lust, as he watched Harry give ‘head’ to his fingers.

Letting the now wet fingers fall from his mouth, Harry squinted slightly, trying to focus on Draco’s face. "If I what?" he murmured, moving his hands to the Slytherin’s waist and hooking his thumbs in the boxers before tugging them down, "If I was doing this?"

That said, he leaned over and took the head of Draco’s shaft in his mouth, licking and suckling at it, delighting in the texture and flavor.

Draco swallowed, his throat gone dry as he watched with huge eyes while Harry, Harry, the Boy who Lived, Potter, gave him fellatio. "Oh Salazar," he moaned faintly. "If this is a dream, don’t let me wake up!"

Without stopping what he was doing, Harry shifted a hand to pinch Draco on the arse, telling him it was indeed real.

Yelping slightly, the blond Slytherin glared down at Harry and then smiled wickedly. "Well if I’d known you wanted to get _that_ adventurous, Harry, I’d have transfigured a few things in the room to make it more interesting."

Shaking his head slightly, Harry pulled back enough so that his sigh ghosted over the sensitized flesh of Draco’s shaft. "Malfoy, if you aren’t going to moan or whimper, just shut up," he stated before going back to what he’d been doing.

"Bossy bits, aren’t you?" Draco groaned, feeling Harry begin to work harder on his prick. "For someone who’s only muddled around with a Ravenclaw, you’re bloody talented at this, you know? I always knew parseltongue had to be good for something other than talking to snakes. It’s made your tongue bloody limber too!"

Deciding answering wasn’t as important as his goal of hearing Draco moan, Harry shifted a hand to cup the other youth’s testicles, pulling at them, his fingers brushing the surprisingly silky blond pubic hair around them as he licked and sucked and hummed around the thick shaft in his mouth.

"H-Harry, that, oh there, touch... mmmm you’re bloody clever at this. But you need to stop if you want me too..." Draco choked, feeling his whole body quiver. He was on the edge, desperate to come, to leave a part of himself swimming through Harry’s bloodstream, nourishing the Gryffindor in magical ways. But he was also desperate to be buried balls deep inside Harry, fucking him hard and deep. Oh the dilemma he faced.

"What do you want, Harry? Do you want me to come, do you want me to fuck you now, or do you want to get me hard again so I can fuck you later?"

"Third one," Harry mumbled, pulling back to lick is swollen lips before diving in again, breathing deeply and smelling the unique scent of lust- driven Draco Malfoy.

"Bollocks," Draco moaned, his head falling back on his shoulders and his hands gripping Harry’s head tightly. His control shredded by Gryffindor eagerness, Draco’s hips began to move back and forth slightly, his grip on Harry’s head increasing so that he was holding the other teen still while he fucked himself in and out of the warm, wet heat of Harry’s mouth.

All too soon he felt the telltale signs of orgasm racing through him and with a loud shout he came, sending spurt after spurt of come into Harry’s lush mouth.

Swallowing down the offering, Harry sucked on the pulsing shaft, taking all Draco had to offer and eager for more. Finally, when fine shivers were running through Malfoy’s body, he sat back, pulling Draco to his knees once more so that he could kiss the blond almost tenderly.

"Not too bad for someone who’s only ‘muddled around with a Ravenclaw’, hmm?" Harry asked with a slight grin, scooting back onto the large bed and bringing Draco with him. "And I do say the way you look right now is..." he shook his head and traced a finger over Draco’s still flushed face, "amazing."

Draco tried desperately to form a properly ‘Draco’ answer but his brain wouldn’t engage properly. Instead he found himself fisting his hands through Harry’s deliciously messy hair and kissing him with every ounce of hunger and need he possessed.

Swearing silently to every dark wizard he’d ever heard of that he would do _anything_ to keep Harry alive and whole and, well, _his_ , Draco finally released the other teen’s mouth when the urge to breathe became more urgent. His fingers stroked over the passion mark on Harry’s throat and then his mouth slid down the Gryffindor’s jaw to come to rest over it once more, suckling on it once more and sending the blood racing to the same spot all over again.

The remark he’d been about to make vanished in the sigh that escaped his lips and Harry tilted his head back, allowing Draco full access to his throat. The bite of pain at the bruising mixed with the pleasure still circulating through his veins to give it a richness he’d never felt before, and he dug his hands into Draco’s back, moaning quietly.

Knowing he might possibly be made to live to regret it but feeling in his gut that now was the perfect time, the only time, Draco moved his lips from the bruise, up the strong column of throat to rest just below Harry’s ear. "I never thought I’d get the chance to say this, thought it would always be like it was between us... arch-nemeses sniping and growling and making each other’s life a hell on earth but... I love you Harry James Potter. Never wanted to, mind you, but it kind of happened. I mean you’re sodding gorgeous and you do those bloody courageous things. You were, _are_ , everything I publicly scorned and secretly wanted. It was a pain in the arse, lemme tell you, realizing I was falling for the Gryffindor Golden boy and not able to do a thing about it."

Dazed green eyes slowly cleared, and Harry frowned slightly, unsure of just how to react to that statement. "You don’t need to sweeten things up to get in my pants," he finally said, "especially since you’re already there. I’m not going to run screaming or crying from this room afterward, and I’m not asking for a lifetime - we both bloody well know that could be a very short span."

Draco saw red at Harry’s comment. Bad enough the rejection but Potter seemed helbent on dying and the Slytherin didn’t have a doubt that at the rate Potter was going it would become a self-fulfilling prophecy. "You’re not going to fucking well die, do you hear me?" he all but screamed in Harry’s face, hoping that screaming like a banshee would get his point across where reason had failed.

Draco was sick and bloody tired of the Boy who Lived wanting to die. "And for the record, I didn’t offer you a lifetime, you stupid sod. If I had you would have known it." Clambering off the bed and feeling like he’d made the biggest mistake of his life, Draco began to prowl around his quarters like a caged animal that was now very much cornered because of his confession.

"Whoever said confession was good for the soul sure as hell didn’t count on a Death Eater’s brat confessing to the great and glorious Gryffindor savior or they’d have kept their bloody mouth shut. Here I was thinking that it was a miracle I could finally say what I never thought I could and the bloody prat actually tells me not to lie. I was being honest for one of the first times in my fucking life!"

"I’m being fucking realistic!" Harry shouted back, not caring at that point if all of Slytherin heard him and came to investigate. The warm feelings inside him had curdled up and died, leaving a growing anger toward the situation in general and Draco in particular at having caused it.

Oh, Harry couldn’t say he wasn’t at fault, not when he’d shown up here and practically begged for it, but damn Malfoy to hell anyway for making him see what he never had before and for making him feel, feel too damned much. Still glaring at Draco, he shoved off the bed and grabbed for his glasses and clothes, yanking them back on with little regard as to how they looked, wanting some kind of armor from the anger and pain in Draco’s silver gaze.

"I’m - I’m sorry I just can’t accept what you said blindly." Harry gave a cynical laugh. "I’d think you’d be proud of me over that, a Gryffindor not accepting something as fact just because it’s presented as such, it must be bloody amazing."

Draco sucked in a deep breath, closing his eyes at the unbelievable pain that spiked through him at Harry’s words. "Yes, you’re absolutely right, I should have known better," he finally said, eyes opening once again to reveal hard shards of silvered ice as ‘his soul began to freeze over.

And Draco did see, he saw that he was good enough to have a one night stand with, good enough to fool around and fuck with but not good enough to ever be anything important to Harry. He was, in Potter’s eyes,, just a dirty, Death Eating Slytherin, after all. How stupid could he have been? He had opened his heart, his very _soul_ to this beautiful, _cruel_ boy in front of him and now had to suffer the consequences.

"So does this mean your little jaunt to the wrong side of the tracks is over, Potter?" he asked smoothly, forcing himself not to react, not to show an ounce of weakness. Gliding back over to the bed, he lay down non-chalantly and watched Harry struggle into the rest of his clothes. "And here I thought you wanted to be _corrupted_ at least for tonight. My mistake. Consider the offer withdrawn if you like."

Harry froze, his emotions a whirling, painful hurricane. "It wasn’t like that and you know it," he finally stated, his voice low and raspy. "Or maybe you don’t. Bollocks, maybe I don’t even know it." He passed a weary hand over his forehead, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

Raising his eyes, Harry looked at Draco lying on the bed, appearing the soul of ease, even though he was, in reality, slowly shattering apart inside. He _knew_ that, just like he _knew_ what Draco had said earlier was the truth, a truth that terrified him as people who loved him died, horribly. There was only one way to keep Draco safe, and he had to use it, even if it meant the end of what they had been building together.

"Unlock the door," he said quietly but firmly. "I’m sure Zabini’s around if you’re that desperate for a shag."

"But of course," Draco replied smoothly, calling his wand to him with fluid ease. "Far be it from me to stop the Gryffindor Golden boy from leaving now that he’s decided he’s finished slumming with the scum of Slytherin.

"Try and get some rest tonight, Potter. We wouldn’t want the youngest seeker in a century to be too fagged out to play tomorrow, now would we?" and with that Draco quickly muttered the words to release the wards and silencing charms around the room before clambering off the bed and grabbing his robe from the door.

When Harry backed away quickly as Draco approached the door the Slytherin felt something die inside of him. "Don’t worry, Potter, I of all people would never dream of forcing my unwanted attentions on someone. I remember all too clearly how it feels," Draco hissed, eyes narrowing as he fought the spike of pain that slammed through him. _Show no weakness, show no pain,_ he kept chanting to himself over and over like a mantra as he forced the next words out.

"I was merely going to give you an excuse to leave without being seen; after all it would look rather odd if my bedroom door opened by itself while I was still lying on the bed, if that’s all right with you?" the blond queried with a haughty lift of an eyebrow.

With a dignity and grace that Draco didn’t know he had he quickly opened the bedroom door and, leaving the door open behind him, walked out of the room. "Crabbe, Goyle! Find Zabini for me. Tell him I want to talk to him. **NOW**!" the Slytherin bellowed, not daring to look behind him even though he knew he couldn’t see as Harry slipped out of his room and his life.


	7. Chapter 7

Morning both took forever to arrive and came all too soon. Haunted by the things he’d done and said, Harry hadn’t slept a wink and he’d spent the night arguing with himself that he’d done the right thing; by pushing Draco away, he would keep him safe. Of course the echo of Malfoy’s last command to Crabbe and Goyle rang in his ears for hours after the fact, and when he let his mind wander, it brought up vivid images of what the two Slytherins were probably doing.

He was almost certain that Draco had done that to spite him, to make Harry hurt just as he was hurting, but a tiny bit of doubt remained, enough to be nursed into anger although a good part of it was directed at himself.

"Ready to kick some snake arse today, Harry?"

He looked up from the rasher of bacon he’d been methodically breaking into tiny bits and smiled at Ron. "Always."

"Shite, you look like hell!" the redhead exclaimed, dropping onto the bench alongside Harry as the rest of the Gryffindor team joined them. "What’s eating you?"

Harry bit his lip to keep from bursting into hysterical laughter at the thought of Ron’s expression if he answered that truthfully. ‘Last night it was Draco if you must know, and he’s damn good at it too.’

"Harry was probably up polishing off our strategy to use against Slytherin," Ginny cut in smoothly, earning herself a smile of gratitude from the exhausted Gryffindor seeker.

"We play like we’ve been playing and they don’t stand a chance," Royce Meadows, one of the beaters, announced. "Plus there’s the fact that Malfoy hasn’t gotten a Snitch from Potter yet."

"Doesn’t mean we don’t have to be on our toes," Ginny cautioned. "Snitch or no, Slytherin won’t go down easy."

~*~*~

"Captains, come forward and shake hands," Madame Hooch called, motioning the leaders of the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams forward.

The stands around the pitch were packed with members of all four Houses, Slytherins and Gryffindors already shouting catcalls and insults at each other as the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs predicted outcomes based on what would be best for their House teams.

Moving as if underwater, Harry strode forward, vaguely feeling his teammates clap him on the back as he passed. He avoided looking at Malfoy until the last moment, but when he did, he met the other boy’s cold gaze squarely. Draco’s lips were definitely swollen this morning and he had the sleek, satisfied look of someone who had been well bedded. Zabini had the same look about him in the dining hall, and Harry felt a hot burst of anger slide through his veins.

He nodded politely to Madame Hooch, taking perverse pleasure in the knowledge that the move would show Draco he hadn’t had the hickey charmed off. It would stay there until it faded, both as a lesson and a bittersweet reminder to himself.

"Malfoy." The word was almost inaudible over the noise of the crowd, and Harry extended his hand as if the thought of touching Draco again didn’t make his knees weak.

Draco barely deigned to acknowledge Harry’s presence outwardly but inside he was falling apart.

It was amazing what a memory charm could do, he thought miserably. Zabini thought he’d been royally fucked last night and had spent the morning preening to Slytherin in general and the world at large. Draco, it appeared to the rest of the world, had done the deed, but in fact had used a magical recording of his last conquest of Zabiniwhile said Slytherin slept on, oblivious, thanks to the draught of living death Draco had slipped into his pumpkin juice. For all the world and one Gryffindor in particular he looked like he was back on his game, the Slytherin Prince taking conquests where he willed it, like a medieval lord of old.

The truth, however, was a far cry from what Draco wanted the world to see. He felt broken inside, damaged beyond all reason. The one and only time he’d confessed his closely harbored secret, the first and quite possibly the last time he’d left himself open and vulnerable by revealing the truth about himself he had been put quite firmly in his place. It was a mistake he would not soon repeat. He’d learned his lesson far too well. Trusting someone with your secrets only got you hurt, and quite possibly dead. Never again, he vowed to himself, he’d never trust anyone ever again.

Realizing Madam Hooch was staring at him, Malfoy realized some time had passed since Har... _no_! Potter had extended his hand. With the condescension worthy of his family name he barely let his fingers slide across the leather covered palm of the Gryffindor’s hand and then turned and stalked back towards his team without even looking at Potter directly. It was a horrid snub and he knew the entire school had just witnessed it but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It hurt too much.

"No mistakes today," he snarled. "I want Gryffindor _crushed_ , do you understand me? And make sure you do it clean. I refuse to give those pathetic mudblood lovers a chance to cry foul so that their equally pathetic patron," Draco shot Dumbledore a dirty look, "can reverse things. No mercy, Slytherins." Mounting his broom he kicked off and hovered, waiting for the signal to take to the skies. Today he would play, as he had never done so before. Today he would channel all his pain, all his fury, everything that had cut him and left him raw and bleeding into his game. Whether he won or lost, he would make sure that _everyone_ knew that he was just as good as that... as _him_.

Ron’s face was as red as his hair when Harry returned to the group. "That slimy git! He - he..." His indignation clogged his throat and he could only hurl murderous looks at the silver and green clad team.

"Concentrate on the game, Ron," Harry growled, pushing everything from his mind except the upcoming competition. "That goes for all of you too. You know what they’ll do, try to get us pissed so we make mistakes. Remember where you are, remember _who_ you are. Sodding tossers haven’t beaten us while I’ve been on the team and I don’t mean for it to start now."

He looked around the circle, taking strength and comfort from the faces of his friends, the only family he’d known since Sirius died. "For Gryffindor."

"For Gryffindor!" the others echoed loudly, turning as one and mounting their brooms, waiting for Madame Hooch’s signal.

~*~*~

This could well go down as one of the most brutal games of the century, Draco thought to himself as he wiped the sweat off his brow. It was as if each side was playing like it was their last game. For once Slytherin’s tactics were beyond reproach. It had actually been the Gryffindor side that had been hit with various fouls, which had in turn knocked their points down so that Slytherin was ahead by almost 120 points.

Draco saw a flutter of red and gold on a broom pull up next to him and he knew damned well it was Har... Potter. He could see all the other Gryffindor players spread out below him.

"Zabini!" he roared suddenly, "next time you do that I’ll turn you into a slug! I want this beyond reproach!"

The other Slytherin looked up, shamefaced and then his expression darkened into pure malice as he saw who was hovering next to _his_ Draco. "Don’t worry, Drake, we’ll crush them with their own bloody rules. Teach those high and mighty Gryffindors a thing or two."

Unable to keep quiet in the face of that jibe, Harry looked over at Draco. "Amazing how well he came to heel, isn’t it?" He looked away then, purportedly to scan the skies for the Snitch, but in reality because he couldn’t bear looking at Draco without longing to touch him.

 _Get through this game and you can avoid him all you want,_ he promised himself.

"Yes, as a matter of fact he did," Draco replied coldly. "At least with him I know where I stand. To him I’m an equal, someone who understands what it is to be scum and unwanted. To him I’ll never be just another misadventure in a long line of misadventures. I’ll never be a pity fuck," Draco snarled, wheeling his broom and heading for the other side of the pitch as far from Harry as he could get even as his eyes still scanned for a speck of gold, too much a seeker not to do so.

In the stands Hermione watched Harry and Draco with growing concern. That night they’d spent in Snape’s rooms while Harry and Ron had run errands, and the few subsequent times they’d gotten together had given her a new insight into the Slytherin and she found that while she still didn’t trust him and wasn’t sure if she’d ever call him a ‘mate’ she did understand him much better than before.

 _Oh Harry, what have you done?_ she thought sadly. _To the both of you._

~*~*~

Cheering Ginny as she tossed the quaffle behind Slytherin’s keeper and into the middle goal, Harry angled to fly by Ron, pulling up alongside him while still watching the field.

"Don’t worry, easy enough to catch up. Don’t let them get to you, you do that, they’ve won already." He lifted a hand in a half-salute, then darted back toward the middle field, wanting to find the snitch and end this madness.

Draco watched with grim satisfaction as first Zabini, then Parkinson, and finally Davis all scored goals on the Gryffindor side with a certain amount of ease. He could tell his people were tiring and he cursed soundly under his breath. Where was that damned snitch? He needed this game to be over!

The clouds suddenly shifted and there, just below and to the right of him was a sudden glimmer of gold, right in the thick of the worst of the scrimmaging. Grinning like a madman and not caring a whit for his own personal safety, Draco suddenly dove, ducking and winding and weaving. He heard a bludger whistle by his head close enough that he could feel a few of his hairs get clipped but still he dove.

Maybe it was a touch of madness, maybe it was the icy numbness that had invaded since last night but he found he couldn’t work up the nerve to be worried despite the gasps from the stands, the sudden disbelieving silence of yet _another_ prejudiced Gryffindor announcer or the shouts of his team mates.

Cursing, Harry caught sight of the snitch and raced for it, flattening himself out over his broom for every bit of speed he could manage. Slytherin was up by 130 - or was it 140, the last few rounds of scoring had been so fast and furious he’d lost track.

Swerving to avoid Goyle who looked as if he’d rather use his bat on Harry’s head then the bludger, he came up under the crowd and threaded through it. Silver and green robes filled his vision, and a shout went up from the stands, but Harry couldn’t tell who scored. All he could see was Draco’s hand, and his own both reaching for the snitch before the two seekers collided in midair and tumbled to the ground.

 _Not, this time, please not this time,_ Draco prayed, his fingers brushing one of the snitch’s wings. He was so close but the ground was coming up so fast. Would he have time to pull up? Could he pull it off?

And then Potter leaned a little closer to his broom and edged up a little further and the game was over. He’d caught the snitch again.

Draco tugged hard at his broom, deciding that suicide really wasn’t the Slytherin way but he’d waited a heartbeat too long. The ground rushed up to meet him and he heard the sickening crack of his broomstick snapping and then... darkness.

Barely pulling up in time to avoid colliding with the ground, Harry collapsed, the breath knocked from his lungs at the force of his landing. He could feel the snitch wriggling in his hand, knew he should feel happy because he’d caught it, but...

Raising his eyes, he looked toward the group of Slytherins already huddled around Draco’s still form and felt his heart clench even as he say Madame Hooch pushing her way through the small crowd to get to the downed player.

"Harry! We did it, Harry!" The shouts and laughter from his teammates fell on deaf ears as Harry got to his feet, staring in shock as Draco was loaded onto a stretcher and whisked back to the castle and the infirmary.

They had won, but it seemed to have been at as much cost as his actions the night before had been.

~*~*~

Draco sighed and glared at the door that led to the outside world. A world he was expressly forbidden to go into until he’d been given a clean bill of health in the morning. He wanted out of the bloody hospital wing so he could go back to his little Slytherin dungeon and lick his wounds in peace.

Actually, he wanted to go to his godfather’s room and hide out for a week or until he died of old age, one of the two. However neither was a viable option at the moment and the only form of good luck he seemed to have had was Madam Pomfrey kicking the Slytherin team out of the infirmary with strict instructions that if they showed their faces again before morning they’d be put to work scrubbing bedpans without the use of magic. Which meant that Zabini couldn’t make a pest of himself, thank Merlyn.

Groaning softly as he turned on to his side, his broken bones still knitting he began to seriously consider that the Fates had decided to totally and completely screw with his life. Or perhaps, as some would say, it was divine justice. Either way it meant that Draco Malfoy had come out the loser yet again in the game of life. Was this how Uncle Sev had felt when faced with Potter, Lupin and Black? He could understand why Uncle Sev had become such a bitter and hardened man if this were the case. There were only so many times you could take a chance before you realized that it was better not to do so when all you got was bum end of the broomstick.

There was the sound of a throat being cleared at the end of the wing and Draco’s head snapped up. "What do you want, Granger?"

"To see if you were all right. Oh, it’s all right, I made sure there weren’t any hangers about before I came and ... Professor Snape helped me with a few spells and charms and such to make sure we weren’t heard."

Narrowing his eyes, Draco took out his wand and did a quick seek spell. Sure enough, there he could detect Snape’s signature in the spells that had been cast. Sagging back onto the bed he didn’t bother to look up when Hermione sat down next to him. "Shouldn’t you be up in Gryffindor celebrating yet another astounding victory over Slytherin?"

"Actually I never did care all that much for Quidditch. I just pretend to in order to pacify Ron and keep him happy. Besides, he has the others to talk to about all that stuff. _Are_ you all right?"

"Never better."

"Draco," Hermione sighed. "What happened?"

"You mean before or after I sucked Potter’s cock?" Draco replied snidely, barking with laughter as Hermione turned bright red.

"He came to his senses," Draco replied suddenly, tired of acting, tired of lying, tired of pretending it didn’t hurt and just wanting to let it out. But who’d have thought he’d be baring his soul to a muggleborn Gryffindor know-it-all?. In a bizarre and mixed up way it made absolute sense.

"He realized I wasn’t good enough for him, that I was just another slimy, lying Slytherin and he decided he was through with slumming. All because... because," Draco’s voice hitched and the first silvery trickle of tears ran down his face. "All because I said I... cared about him.

"Biggest joke of all, don’t you think Granger? For the first time in my miserable life I’m completely and totally honest and I’m accused of lying. Poetic justice and all that."

"Oh, Malfoy, I’m so sorry," Hermione murmured, resting her hand on top of his. "But Harry’s not like that. He wouldn’t... he couldn’t be that cruel. Maybe you just misunderstood."

"He told me to go back to Zabini."

Hermione reached out to take Draco’s hand, checked herself in mid- movement, then continued on, closing her fingers around his. No one could see or hear them right now, so she wouldn’t put him in any danger.

"Considering he looked as if he wanted to skin Zabini this morning at breakfast I don’t think he meant it."

"You weren’t there, Granger, you didn’t hear what Potter said, saw what he did. But be that as it may there’s no cause for concern. Nothing happened between Zabini and I. I refuse to ever sleep with that git again, no matter what, even maintaining my role in Slytherin.

"I made Zabini think that we fucked like minks, and the rest of Slytherin too, but I never laid a hand on him. I invited him back to my room after Harry left and gave him some pumpkin juice that had draught of living death in it and messed with his mind. I couldn’t stomach the thought of actually _touching_ that slut. Spent the night on a conjured air mattress on the floor and left Zabini alone in the bed.

"Anyway, if Potter did seem upset to you it was probably because he brassed off that I took him up on his suggestion instead of pining away for him like I was supposed to do.

"Look, I know he’s your friend, Granger and I know, dammit all, I know how wonderful he is. That’s why it hurts so blasted much. Because he is wonderful and brave and kind and a better person than I’ll ever be and I really and truly _don’t_ deserve to have someone like that, even for one bloody night.

"So if you’re going to talk about him could you do us both a favor and leave. I’ve never gotten emotional before, Malfoys don’t do such a thing, and if I did, I’d have to kill you so it’s just best if you let it go. It’s already dead." _Just like me_ , Draco thought morosely. _Living on borrowed time until I’m exposed as a traitor and taken and not even one fucking night of happiness to hold on to when I’m tortured to death!_

Hermione shook her head sadly, her curly hair sliding over her shoulders to frame her face as she did so. "All right, no talking about H - him. What about discussing N.E.W.T’s? How many are you planning on taking?"

She did know once she got back to Gryffindor she was going to have a very serious talk with a certain Harry Potter!

Draco smiled wanly, knowing full well it had taken a lot of effort for Hermione Granger to change the topic. She was like a three headed dog after a single bone when she got something in her head. However he was grateful for the company. It kept him from thinking and from moping.

"You know," he mused after a lull in the conversation. "You’re the only one who could top me in class, well in some classes, I’m still better in Potions and Arithmancy but... you made me work for my grades, Granger. Thank you for that. You made sure that what I was given I had to earn, not be handed just because my father was on the board of governors and my name was Malfoy. It was one of the few things I can honestly say I’m proud of."

"Aren’t you proud of what you’re doing now?" she asked quietly. "You’re helping people, saving lives."

"At the cost of other people’s lives," Draco replied quietly. "Oh, I know all the facts and what not, but for the past six years Slytherin has been my family, a dysfunctional one that can be rather stuck up, and not above kicking stray puppies if they happen to be muggles, but my family nonetheless. When the world’s against you, you tend to stick to your own kind no matter what. Because they’re _yours_ and you fit in, ‘and they’re the only ones who stand by you when the rest of this bollocksy school has it in for you.

"I’m not justifying what they’re like but when it comes right down to the bottom line, it’s a life for a life, Granger. That’s nothing to be proud of. But it is, unfortunately, a fact of war, and that’s what this is; a dirty, evil little war that’s about to become an ugly, monstrous great war."

She sighed and raised saddened eyes to meet Draco’s. "A great, monstrous war that cold kill a lot of innocent people who won’t even going on," she pointed out, squeezing his fingers gently.

~*~*~

Finally escaping from the celebration in honor of Gryffindor’s victory over Slytherin, Harry wandered the school’s halls, unsettled and unhappy. He had done what was right, so why didn’t he feel better? That question kept pestering him as he trudged along, not knowing or caring where he was going.

"Ah, Harry, not in the mood to celebrate?" Albus Dumbledore asked from the shadows near the infirmary. "I would think that after such a death defying victory you’d be right in the thick of it?"

Looking up to meet the benign gaze, Harry was somewhat shocked to realize that his eyes were on a level with the headmaster’s, that he no longer had to look up at his mentor but had matured enough to meet him eye to eye. "No, I wasn’t really in the mood," he answered truthfully.

"Whyever not, my boy? Sherbet lemon?" Dumbledore asked, extending a fancy candy tin towards the young man. "What could possibly be so horrible that you cannot celebrate an amazingly spectacular victory after a most astounding match?"

"No thank you." Shaking his head at the offered candy, Harry tried to think of how to best explain himself. "It just didn’t feel like much of a victory to me; not when Dra - Malfoy ended up plowing into the ground."

"An unfortunate miscalculation on his part, true, but why should something that happens to a Slytherin effect the Gryffindor celebration? When I made you and Mr. Malfoy work together I did not make you his keeper, so you have nothing to feel guilty about. You’ve done your duty to Mr. Malfoy in regards to that other project; you’ve actually gone above and beyond it by trying to befriend him despite the fact that he’s not the most amenable of people. I’m proud of you thoughtfulness, my boy."

Harry gave a pained laugh as his stomach lurched; thinking about what he’d done the night before. "Professor... Have you ever done something that hurt someone - I mean really hurt them - for their own good?"

"Sometimes we do what we must for the greater good, Harry," Dumbledore said sadly, placing a hand on the Gryffindor’s shoulder. "I hurt you when I left you with your muggle family and each time I sent you back. I had no choice but I could see it in your eyes when you left on the Hogwarts Express every summer how much it hurt you. Yes, we do what we must and pray that we have done it for what is the right reason instead of our own needs and wants and perhaps even our own insecurities.

"The thing to remember is that you must weigh the good against the bad, what you perceive to be the right thing to do against why you are doing it and,if after all that you are still convinced your course of action is the best, you must follow it through. However if what you do causes more harm than good you must ask yourself why is it you feel compelled to do such a thing. Soul searching is never easy, and you sometimes see more ugly things about yourself than you ever thought possible. You must be prepared for what you might discover and you must learn to live with the consequences."

Nodding, a shudder going through his whole body, Harry tried to process Dumbledore’s words as they related to his situation. "And if you’ve hurt someone for a reason you thought was just, how do you make amends?"

"I’m afraid I can’t answer that. This is something you must determine for yourself. But I trust you, Harry, to do the right thing. I trust that above all else. You have proven yourself time and again to be a thoughtful, caring and loyal young man. Have faith in yourself to do what is right, just as I have faith in you," Dumbledore replied quietly.

"Now, I must be going, I’ve asked Professor Snape to come to tea and he does not strike me as a man who likes to be kept waiting for his host. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, sir," Harry echoed, watching Dumbledore stroll down the corridor, his high-heeled shoes clacking quietly on the stone floor.

"Do the right thing... How the hell do you do that when you don’t even know what it is?" Harry asked the silent air around him before trudging toward the infirmary, shoulders slumped in dejection.

~*~*~

Draco laughed quietly, stifling his mirth behind his hands. "Muggles are the silliest creatures! Why anyone would want to ride on a wooden horse that just goes around in circles and up and down and doesn’t neigh or gallop or do anything an enchanted wooden horse should do is beyond me. Now, honestly Hermione, do they really speak into smelly bones just to talk to one another?"

"Smelly..." she laughed quietly, used to this kind of misunderstanding from her time at the Weasleys. "Telephones, Draco, telephones. You really should have taken Muggle studies, you know, if only to have the chance for one more N E W T."

"Father would never have permitted it. I’m a pureblood after all," Draco said with a shrug of his shoulders. "

"Well, once this is over, if you care to know more about muggles, I could take you to visit my parents. One week with them and you’ll know enough to sit for a master’s exam."

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise. "You’d do that? For me? But I’m a Slytherin and you’re dating Weasley!"

"Do tell Ron that if you have a moment," Hermione sighed, before continuing. "So you’re a Slytherin - the prince of the Slytherins if the gossip runs true, but so what? I’d have to be blind and deaf not to notice you’re a person, Draco, and a decent one as well. You’re trying to protect Harry, don’t deny it."

"Well, the bloody stupid Gryffindor wanker, sorry but he is, is bound and determined to get himself killed. He keeps talking about dying and such and I know he’s going to try something... he was bloody suspicious when Snape made him test the tracking potion. He’s going to try and do it alone, Hermione, go after the Dark Lord I mean."

"He wouldn’t!" Seeing the expression of certainty and adding it up to what she knew of Harry, Hermione winced. "He would, because he doesn’t want anyone else hurt because of him."

"Saint Potter strikes again. I must be deranged. That’s the only explanation as to why a Slytherin with a very strong will to survive at all costs would fall in love with someone hell bent on getting himself killed." Draco’s jaw snapped shut and his eyes widened as he realized what he had just said. "Oh bollocks."

"That would seem to sum it up." Still holding Draco’s hand, Hermione leaned in and patted it with her free one. "Are you absolutely sure you didn’t misinterpret what he said?" she asked, hoping that both Harry and Malfoy, being males, completely mucked things up as usual. Draco sighed. "He basically told me I was lying to his face when I said that I cared about him, But as I said before it doesn’t matter now because the minute I said it, it was game over. I was good enough to shag but not for anything else, he made that abundantly clear to me, Granger."

"But it does matter! I’m sure if he knew how you felt..." Seeing the looked of defeat in Draco’s eyes, Hermione sighed in frustration. "Men!"

"I _told_ him how I felt, Granger, and he bolted like a scared first year meeting Professor Snape alone in a corridor. After he told me that I didn’t have to sugar coat it in order to get into his pants," Draco growled. "Now can we drop it? Please?" He should have known that the Gryffindor wouldn’t give up the topic so easily, despite the lull in their initial conversation. She was a member of the brave and stupid house, after all.

Hermione was still tempted to argue the point, but she had a good inclination as to how Draco felt - telling someone you had feelings for them and having them walk away had to hurt, horribly.

"Consider it dropped, for a second and final time" she smiled, hoping he wouldn’t take offense at her words.

"Thanks. For everything, I mean that," Draco replied gruffly after a few moments. "But you’d really better get back to the Gryffindor victory bash, the Weasel will be missing you soon. And then there’s Pomfrey, she’ll have a... chicken? ... if she catches you here."

"A cow." That said, Hermione smiled and stood, then, on impulse, leaned in to kiss Draco’s forehead. "Get some rest, Malfoy, or I’ll come up with a vile tasting potion for you to drink."

She smiled, and stepped away from the blond and, turning to go, looked back over her shoulder at the bed-ridden Slytherin. "Oh, and to give you something to think on, Harry didn’t feel much like celebrating at the victory party either. Knowing him, he slipped out of the tower the first chance he got. It does make you wonder why."

"Stupid prat’s probably out trying to get himself killed in some horribly painful way," Draco muttered under his breath and then smirked at Hermione. "And you can brew all the potions you like, Granger but you can’t make me drink them. I’ve built up a resistance to Imperius thanks to my father and I’m better at a wizard’s duel than you, so there!" On impulse Draco finished the sentence by sticking out his tongue and blowing a raspberry at her.

"And I’ll tell Pomfrey you called her a cow," he said with a very Slytherin smirk.

"I’m terrified," Hermione chuckled. "You’re still healing so I wager I can have Ron sit on you while I pour it down your throat. Now get some rest!" That said, she waved and walked out of the infirmary, scooping Crookshanks up when the cat joined her at the doorway.

"Damned bossy bit of goods. And people wonder why I turned out gay surrounded by women like that?" Draco muttered without heat.

~*~*~

By the time Harry’s slow steps took him to the infirmary (via the owlery, the astronomy tower, and the kitchens), it was late. After checking to see if Madame Pomfrey was around, he walked silently down the rows of mostly empty beds, stopping to stand at the foot of Malfoy’s, thankful he was asleep.

"Scared me to death, you sodding fool," he muttered to himself, devouring the other teen’s sleep relaxed features hungrily. "Thought you weren’t going to pull up, that you meant to... If you had, then I never would have had the chance to say I was sorry." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "Still might not get to, not the way things are now. Probably be for the best; staying far away from me will keep you alive."

Moonlight silvered Draco’s fair hair, and Harry had to clench his hands into fists to keep from reaching out to touch it. "Rest well," he finally said, stepping back away from the bed and striding quickly across the ward and into the hall beyond the door.

Draco’s eyes opened and in their corners moisture glittered like diamonds. "Stupid sodding Gryffindor," he whispered, dashing at his eyes with his fists. "Always have to do things the hard way. Well, if you think I’m going to let you go and die on me before we’ve sorted out whatever this is between us you have another thing coming. Gryffindor courage is no match for Slytherin cunning."


	8. Chapter 8

Christmas break had arrived, and Hogwarts was quiet, as usual. Ron and Hermione both had invited him to come home with them, but Harry had sent them off with promises that he would be fine, that he needed the quiet to catch up on his homework and study for their upcoming N.E.W.T’s.

The courtyard was quiet, only three other students hurrying across it, wanting to get out of the snow. In direct contrast, Harry leaned against the wall in a sheltered spot, holding up his wrist for Hedwig to land on then feeding her a treat while she tugged at his gloves affectionately.

Draco watched from a shadowed courtyard corridor with darkened eyes. Feeling a presence behind him he turned to see his godfather standing there a sad look on his face. "I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me. Nothing will become of it. But he’s had such a hard life, if I can’t be the one to make him happy I just want him to be happy, is that so horrible of me?"

"No, Dragon, it is a very noble thing for you to want," Severus replied quietly, resting his hand on his godson’s shoulder.

"Oi, no need to get all insulting, it _is_ Christmas after all!"

Snape chuckled and awkwardly patted Draco’s shoulder once more. "Come have breakfast with me Christmas day. I have your present waiting."

Snape had reminded Draco of something and as soon as his godfather disappeared the blond took off towards Dumbledore’s office. After a quick ‘peppermint stick’ he found himself in front of the crazy old coot confessing the reason why he was there.

Surprisingly enough Dumbledore agreed so Draco took out the small, carefully wrapped package and handed it to him. "You will make sure it’s there for him, first thing Christmas day, right?"

"Don’t worry my boy, I’ll take care of it personally."

"Thank you, Headmaster."

~*~*~

Christmas morning dawned cold and bright. Harry woke, yawning and scratching at his mussed hair, reaching for his glasses as he pushed the bed curtains aside. There beside the nightstand was a small pile of presents, and he smiled, though it was a bittersweet expression.

The yearly jumper from Arthur and Molly came first - Gryffindor crimson of course, this one with a small golden snitch knitted into the weave. Pulling it over his head on top of his pajamas, Harry moved on to the next presents, opening them slowly so as to make the moment last longer.

A subscription to World-wide Quidditch from Ron who must have borrowed the galleons from Fred or George, a quite decent rendering of Hedwig from Ginny, a box filled with contents of dubious origin from the twins and a book on gems and their meanings from Hermione. He frowned over the last, wondering if there was going to be a section on gems on one of their exams before shrugging it off to mull over later. He smiled to himself over the gifts, then looked quizzically at the last wrapped package, wondering who it was from; aside from his fourth and fifth years when Sirius had given him presents, there never had been any others.

~*~*~

Draco thanked Severus for his first edition copy of Moste Potente Potions as well as the new cauldron and broomstick maintenance kit. He wondered idly if Harry had opened the present it had taken Draco weeks to prepare.

Draco knew he was an idiot for doing it, but he was more certain than ever that Harry was going to try something so he’d decided to add what little help he could these days since the tracking potion had long since worn off and there was no way to get Potter to take anymore short of having the house elves put it in his morning pumpkin juice.

It had started with a conversation he’d had with Hermione a few weeks after his quidditch accident, a discussion on gems and the power they possess.

Draco and the Gryffindor girl had begun to meet in secret, unbeknownst to Harry and Ron or anyone else for that matter. Hermione had wanted to keep an eye on Draco and Draco... had wanted to keep tabs on Potter. In between checking up on one another they’d developed a sort of friendship and had found each other intellectually challenging. So they’d begun to talk, about anything and everything. Including the mystical powers of gemstones.

The conversation stuck with Draco for a long time and finally he began to scour everything he could find on the subject first for his own personal interest and then because a spark of an idea had caught him. A protective talisman for Potter. So he’d researched and had even roped Hermione into helping him.

Finally, when he was ready, he flooed to Diagon Alley and went shopping.

Draco had chosen the gems carefully, each one having attributes that would aid him in his quest to protect and help Potter in any small way he could. He chose roughly two-dozen precious and semi-precious stones and placed them in an unbreakable decorative vial.

Out of whimsy, just before he closed it, he placed two final stones on the very top, two small stones that held all his hopeless wishes and dreams. The first was chrysoprase to undo the damage he may have caused, to soothe Harry’s heartache and to help him find emotional balance, wisdom, and peace. The last was ruby, the symbol of love with the ability to open the heart.

After he’d placed the gems in the vial, sealing them tightly he’d gone to Flitwick and asked a million questions on protective charms. Swearing the little man to total secrecy, he confessed whom it was for and Flitwick, the ever wise head of Ravenclaw house, had lent his considerable might by casting the very charms they’d discussed over the vial and the gems housed within it.

‘Finally, Draco shrank the fairly large bottle to the size of a galleon and had and hung it on an unbreakable golden chain. He had poured everything he was into the present and offered whatever prayers would be heard to whoever watched over the wizarding world that none of those stones would be needed. And then he had asked Dumbledore to give it to Harry before he had lost his nerve.

Now he was hiding in Snape’s quarters, afraid to stick his head outside, afraid that it would be tossed back in his face. How very Slytherin he was beingsneaking away to live and survive another day!

~*~*~

Still studying the beautifully wrapped package before him, Harry reached for his wand and cast a quick identification spell on it. The resulting glow almost blinded him, and once he blinked away the spots from his eyes, he smiled. Whatever was in there, it wasn’t dangerous, in fact, it seemed to be a highly concentrated protective spell.

He probably should have taken it to Dumbledore to let the headmaster have a go at it, but Gryffindor curiosity won out over still developing control, and he placed the package on the bed in front of him, carefully undoing the spellotape that held the elegant white and gold paper in place.

The wrappings fell away, leaving Harry looking at a plain wooden box. He reached for it, sighing at the smooth grain of the wood; it was as if he’d run his hand over velvet, or Draco’s skin. Giving his head a violent shake to dispel that image, Harry opened the box, his eyes widening in wonder at the necklace and pendant it contained.

Who the hell had sent him this? It made no sense at all, he thought as he reached down and lifted the gift from its holder, raising the pendant to eye level to examine the detail work on the vial and the facetted stones it held. He wasn’t sure of what the gems were, but they held power, a power that tingled over his fingertips and down his arms, making the fine hairs there stand up.

Remembering the presents he’d opened earlier, Harry frowned, looking down at the book Hermione had sent. She’d known, but how the hell... Frustrated and intrigued by this mystery, Harry cupped the pendant in one hand and pulled the book into his lap, determined to go through the laborious process of identifying and understanding each stone and what it did.

~*~*~

Draco finally let Snape convince him to join the other students and teachers for the traditional Hogwarts Christmas dinner. Dumbledore had actually outdone himself this time. Instead of the usual house tables and head tables there was one great round table festively decorated with enough room for all those who had remained behind at Hogwarts.

The dinner itself filled the table to over flowing. There was Christmas goose, sausage stuffing, roast potatoes, peas, glazed carrots, mince pies, marzipan cakes, Christmas puddings already aflame with brandy, Christmas cake, candy and sweets galore, mulled cider and pumpkin juice.

On every plate was a Christmas cracker waiting to be pulled, each cracker bearing a specific name, like a place card. Draco found his and groaned. Uncle Sev on the left and... Potter on the right. Dumbledore was a cruel, cruel man.

"Watch where you walk tonight, Dragon," Snape whispered with a roll of his eyes and then looked straight up. The ceiling, still enchanted so that snow fell, was literally covered with mistletoe. Draco fought against the urge to bang his head on the table. If Dumbledore were in the room he’d insist they ‘follow tradition’ which meant Draco wasn’t getting up until after the headmaster left, or if he did he’d hide himself under the table. The man _had_ to have been a Slytherin, no ifs, ands, or buts about it!

"Are you sure I can’t just have a quiet dinner in your rooms, Uncle?" Draco whined pathetically, already knowing it was a lost cause.

~*~*~

"Harry Potter?"

"Hmm? Oh, Dobby. Merry Christmas to you." Harry straightened up and smiled at the house elf, groaning and wondering how long he’d been at identifying what stones were in his gift as his back ached abominably.

"Merry Christmas to you, Harry Potter. Dobby is wondering if you is going to attend the dinner Dobby and the other house elves has made especially for Christmas." The large ears drooped as if in anticipated rejection.

"Dinner?" Harry glanced over at the clock which read ‘much too late for breakfast and lunch’, shocked that he’d missed both meals in his studying. Listening to his stomach rumble, he set the book and vial aside, standing and stretching. "Yes, yes, I will. I’m glad you stopped by, Dobby, otherwise I would’ve ended up starving to death up here."

"Harry Potter should not joke about such things!" Dobby’s thin frame shook with indignation. "There will be no starving! None at all!" Whirling and still muttering to himself, Dobby disappeared with a snap of his fingers and a pop of imploding air.

Amused and confused by the house elf’s reaction to his jest, Harry shrugged and set about getting ready for the banquet. Even though there were few students in residence during the holidays, Christmas called for an occasion and an occasion called for dressing up. That being the case, he quickly showered and shaved before pulling on a pair of good black slacks and a green turtleneck sweater. Black shoes and his dress robe finished the outfit once he’d whisked the wrinkles out of it with a quick charm.

Satisfied he’d pass Dumbledore’s inspection, Harry started for the door, only to pause, looking back at his nightstand and the pendant lying on the book. It was a gift someone had taken quite a bit of time and care in crafting, and it felt wrong to leave it here while he went out.

Walking over to the nightstand, Harry reached for the chain and slipped it over his head, settling the glass vial under his sweater, against his skin. At the first contact of the cool glass with his chest, a feeling of overwhelming well-being coursed through him, and he gasped, awestruck by the power in the tiny container.

Once he could breathe again, Harry made his way from the tower to the Great Hall, smiling at the decorations, his hand coming up to touch the small lump of the pendant every so often. The smile faded away, however, once he saw Draco and Snape sitting together, and, at the empty setting next to the blond, a cracker that was jumping up and down on the table, shooting out sparks to form his name.

Dumbledore was trying to kill him that was for certain.

Groaning to himself, Harry walked around the table, greeting the other students, before taking his seat. Sparing a glance and a nod at Malfoy, Harry pushed down the hurt inside, before he turned to engage Derrick Marks in conversation, not noticing that he was rubbing at his pendant as he did so.

 _Dumbledore is a sick, cruel, malicious bastard,_ Draco thought morosely. _Why, he’s enough to make me reconsider my stance on opposing Voldiewarts. I may have to join the Death Eaters just to be safe from his machinations._ Deciding that the sooner he ate the sooner the meal would be over, Draco reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes... only to have his hand collide with Potter’s.

Gasping, he snatched his hand back as if he’d been burned and looked at Potter with wide, haunted eyes. _I can’t do this, I_ can’t _. Classes are bad enough; being in the same room is already verging on a Crucio but to sit next to him. No. Enough!_

Pushing his chair back with a violent scraping sound, Draco stood abruptly. "Forgive me, Headmaster, but I’m afraid I just can’t find it in myself to pretend at peace and good will to all men, even Gryffindors," he managed to get out as scathingly as he could, trying to maintain the façade. "I bid you all a good night." And muttering a charm that had the mistletoe withering and dying as he walked under it, Draco fled the great hall with as much dignity and grace as he could. "Good show, Mr. Potter. Would you care for me to conjure a puppy for you to kick next?" Harry whipped around from watching Draco leave to see Snape sneering at him.

Along with active dislike, Harry could see concern in Snape’s expression; a concern he knew wasn’t directed at him, but at Malfoy. But why, if Draco felt the way he’d made abundantly clear, would Snape blame...

Pushing up from his chair, his thoughts awhirl, Harry looked over at Dumbledore. "You’ll have to excuse me as well, sir. I need - there’s something I need to do."

As he passed the headmaster, Harry felt something pressed into his hand. "This might prove useful, Mr. Potter, but take care with it if you try to beard the dragon in his den."

Shoving the item into his pocket without even looking at it, Harry practically ran from the hall, trying to figure out where Draco would have gone to ground. Not Slytherin, with all the members gone for the holidays, it would be too empty, not the library, not the owlery or the broomshed... Snape’s rooms.

Harry let out a pained laugh, pivoting in the middle of the corridor and pelting back the way he had come. Beard the dragon in his den, indeed. He just had to hope Snape didn’t come back and fry him to a crisp before he’d managed to have his say.

Whispering a small prayer that Snape hadn’t re-keyed his wards, Harry pushed on the door, walking into the darkened rooms. Once his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he spotted Draco huddled in a large armchair, staring into the hearth.

"It was you, wasn’t it?" he asked, the pieces of the puzzle that was his mystery gift falling into place.

Draco’s entire body tensed when he heard that voice, that beautifully cruel voice. "What the bloody hell are you going on about, Potter? And what are you doing here, for that matter? I don’t seem to recall Uncle Sev giving you an open ended invitation to enter his quarters at will," he snarled, not looking up from the flames.

"Actually I’ve reconsidered and I don’t want to know what you’re talking about. I just want you to go. Scram, Gryffindork, go back to your noble tower before people think you’re slumming again."

"He didn’t re-ward against me, not quite an invitation, but it works," Harry said mildly, swearing to himself that he wasn’t going to rise to Draco’s baiting. "As for me leaving... No. Not until we’ve had this out.

He paced to stand in front of the fire, blocking Draco’s line of sight. "One of us was lying that night, you know." Harry’s voice dropped with his admission. "It wasn’t you, though, it was me."

"Don’t," came the quiet pain filled plea. "Oh Merlyn,please don’t. You’ve already done the worst you could possibly do to me. Grant me at least a modicum of pride here. I really don’t think I could take another round of your confessions." Draco brought his knees up to his chest and buried his face in the tiny space between. The loneliness of the past months making even that whispered midnight confession he’d overheard in the infirmary seem like nothing more than smoke and vapor.

He huddled in on himself, drawing in tighter and tighter, not wanting to lose the fragile grip on control he had today, of all days. The one day of the year when his father had actually been a father in every sense of the word, the one day he actually missed the lying bastard.

Staring down at the huddled ball of Slytherin in front of him, Harry knew the true meaning of misery in the knowledge that, by trying to protect Draco, he’d brought the other boy to this.

"I’ll go if you tell me the truth," he finally said, squatting down as to be at eye level with Draco. "You gave me this, didn’t you?" As he spoke, he drew the pendant from under his jumper. "Every stone in it is for protection or well-being or... love."

"How did you... bollocks, Granger. I’m gonna hex her into a toadstool when I see her," Draco moaned after peeking up over his legs to see what the blazes Harry was talking about. "Can’t trust a girl to keep a secret anymore. Useless bloody creatures, only good for breeding and even that repulses me."

"If I thought you meant a word of that about Hermione, I’d beat you bloody. Now, are you going to answer me or not?"

"No," Draco sulked, his lower lip coming out in a rather childish pout. "Why’d you want to know anyway? So you can return it?"

"No." Harry shifted so that he was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of Draco. "So I can thank you - and, maybe, try to explain."

"What’s to explain, you made it perfectly clear that I wasn’t good enough to lick your boots. I got the message, believe me," Draco admitted tiredly, "besides, what’s the point in all this. We’re... I’m a Slytherin and you’re a Gryffindor, I’m the son of a Death Eater and you’re the fucking boy who lived. It wouldn’t have ever worked anyway. You were actually correct for once in your life, it _is_ ’ better this way."

Closing his eyes against the pained certainty he heard in Draco’s normally smooth tenor voice, Harry floundered for a way out of this. Words weren’t his strong suit, action was, but now he had to explain the actions he’d taken before any more damage was done.

"Probably," he admitted. "Better to hurt you now then to have you grieving over me before the year’s out. At least that’s what I thought."

"Will you stop fucking saying that?! I’m so sick and tired of all this prattle about you dying. You’re the great bloody boy who lived; you’ve defeated that moldering git how many times now? And you’re, well dammit, you’re HARRY BLOODY POTTER. You’re not going to fucking die!" Draco snarled.

Harry sprang to his feet, going nose to nose with Draco. "If I want Voldemort to die, I HAVE TO!"

"Wh...what?" Draco’s already pale complexion went ghost white. "Says who?"

Losing his aggressive stance, Harry swiped his hand through his hair and sighed. "A prophecy. One I believe."

"From who? That twittering old bird Trelawney? She hasn’t gotten a prediction right since she got here. Hell, probably since she was born already. You can’t actually believe anything she says in her Divinations class, Potter? That’s just ridiculous," Draco growled, beginning to pace. "I don’t believe it. I _refuse_ to believe it!"

Harry sighed again. "You’ve just missed the real predictions. Remember fifth year when there was all the mess going on with the Ministry? That was because Voldemort wanted a copy of the prophecy she made before I was born. She made one in third year too, to me, during exams. They’ve both been spot on, so I have to take the one she channeled this past fall seriously. She doesn’t remember any of them, but I do."

"You have to... she doesn’t..." the blond boy sputtered. "Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? Of all the stupid things I’ve ever heard of, this one tops it. _You_ have to die so Voldemort dies. Just kill the wanker already and be done with it, no need to get all melodramatic about it!"

"You don’t get it, do you? We’re connected, he and I. As long as I’m alive, so is a part of him."

"No. Just, no! I don’t bloody believe it, I _won’t_ believe it!" Draco could hear the beginnings of enraged panic in his voice". If the idiot Gryffindork really believed in Trelawney’s prediction it could very well come true by Potter’s will alone. And knowing Harry he would too. He’d be all noble and forthright and... "You are not gonna bloody off yourself, alright?"

Harry gave a wry smile and dropped into the chair by the fire. "I wasn’t planning on it; that would make things a little too easy for him. Its not one of us dying that matters, its both of us dying, probably together, I haven’t quite figured out the where and how yet, but I’ve got clues to the when."

"Harry, _please_ , listen to me" Draco asked quietly, slipping up and calling Potter by his first name as he dropped on the floor in front of the other boy. "It’s called a self-fulfilling prophecy, if you believe it, it’ll happen. If you don’t believe it, it won’t. Don’t do this, people need you!"

"Draco..." Harry smiled sadly at the other teen. "Do you think I really _want_ to die? The only thing worse then that would be getting people I care about hurt. I don’t want to die, but if it’s a choice between that and the chance that Voldemort comes back again," He sighed. "I hurt you trying not to hurt you, doesn’t it figure?"

"What are you babbling on about now?" Draco was so confused, the twists and turns this conversation was taking was worse than riding a hexed broom. Rubbing his temples as he felt the onset of a migraine begin behind his eyes, Draco shook his head. "I don’t know which way is up with you, Potter, I really don’t. Just, _why are you bloody here, already?_ "

Frowning as he watched Draco rub at his forehead, Harry reached out and turned the other teen around, shifting Malfoy so he was seated between his knees. "Stop fighting, it’ll make it worse," he murmured when Draco struggled to turn around again.

Lifting his hands, Harry began to rub at Draco’s temples, much the same way Draco had helped him earlier in the term. "I’m here to say thank you. And I’m sorry. And I meant what I said about not wanting people I cared about getting hurt. He’s killed my parents and Sirius already; I couldn’t stand to lose Ron, or Hermione, or... or you. I thought it would be better, safer for you if you hated me."

"Not bloody likely," Draco snorted, letting his eyes close and his head fall back on the seat cushion between Potter’s legs. "Can’t hate you, not even after breaking my heart. Guess that’s that nauseatingly romantic streak in me, I’m going to love you forever, no matter what.

"There, I’ve said it out loud. I love you. I’m _in_ love with you. Better just accept the fact and move on. And you can’t go blaming yourself for their deaths. You were a baby and your parents were grown ups, they made their own choices, _Black_ made his own choices. I really hate to be the one to point it out but... not everything is about you, Potter. Sometimes shite just happens."

Continuing to rub at Draco’s temples, Harry shook his head. "Shite, as you say, seems to happen to people around me, more often then not. Look at Cedric."

"Wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, you were set up, your name was put in the Goblet and Pettigrew was there... it was a set up, not your fault at all. Next you’ll be blaming yourself for people getting petrified in our second year and that was definitely my father’s fault."

"No," Harry corrected gently. "It was Voldemort’s fault when you get down to it. It’s just - I didn’t want anything to happen to you and I still don’t. That would kill me faster than Voldemort."

"If it’s meant to happen it will happen," Draco replied philosophically. "And it will have nothing to do with you and everything to do with the role I chose to play in this war. I went into this knowing the possible consequences, and I have no illusions that if I’m caught I’ll be brought before Voldemort somehow, some way. You couldn’t stop it if you tried. So don’t, okay?"

"Now look who’s talking about self-fulfilling prophecies." Harry slid his hands back slightly, feeling the silky glide of Draco’s hair under his palms and clenching his jaw to keep from reaching down to tilt the Slytherin’s head back and kiss him.

"It’s not a self-fulfilling prophecy when dealing with Slytherins, Potter. We have... you know what the sorting hat says, ‘maybe in Slytherin you’ll find your true friends?’ Slytherin has been an isolated house for years. We’ve always known we could depend on nobody but ourselves. Even those who don’t support Voldemort don’t break ranks. You _never_ betray your fellow Slytherins, it’s just not done. I have and I will be found out. Whether it’s before the war is over or after it doesn’t matter, and when it happens there will be repercussions. I’ve accepted that. My penance for the past six years, if you will," Draco said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Draco..." At this, Harry did tilt the other boy’s head back. "Shut up." Leaning in, he pressed his lips against the blond’s, not sure of what his reception would be, but needing this final taste of sweetness if that was what it was going to be.

Moaning, Draco’s mouth slid open and he sucked Harry’s tongue inside. His hands came up and back, locking behind Potter’s head to hold him in place as he used Quidditch hardened leg muscles to force himself upwards. Never breaking the kiss he turned and straddled Harry’s lap, pinning him to the great chair as he allowed himself to devour the mouth that had taunted and haunted him for what felt like an eternity.

Dragging in a breath when their mouths finally parted Harry pulled his head back and stared up into Draco’s eyes, one hand gripping hard at the Slytherin’s hip and the other at his hair. "Not Zabini’s," he rasped, "mine." Seeing understanding form in Draco’s molten eyes, Harry dove in, raising a passion mark on the fair skin of his neck to rival the one he had been given months before.

Letting his head tilt backwards, Draco’s eyes slid shut and he reveled in the sensations crawling through him. Who would have thought that sweet little Harry Potter could be so bloody dominant? Draco was well and truly impressed. And aroused. And incredibly turned on. "Harry," he moaned at last, "please! You’re killing me here."

"No talk of dying," Harry growled, licking Draco’s throat and raising his head to meet the other boy’s eyes once again. "Not from either of us." He pulled Draco closer, grinding up into his aroused body, feeling the both of them shaking.

"Then whatever will we talk about?" Draco breathed, his eyes finally opening to stare down at Harry. "And do we really want to talk about it here, where my godfather can walk in at any moment and see us snogging on his favorite chair?"

Harry shuddered. "Ugh. Talk about ruining the mood... As for talking, we can discuss whatever we fancy."

"Well," Draco began hesitantly. "There’s no one in Slytherin as they’ve all gone home for Christmas holidays. Or we could just go into my bedroom here and ward the door and put a silencing charm around the room," he offered.

"I’m the one who fucked up here; you tell me what makes you more comfortable."

"I’d say we both contributed to the fact. I didn’t have to go and pretend to fuck Zabini the way I did. I haven’t, you know, fucked him. He just thinks I have. Guess I’m still more dark wizard than not, the way I’ve been playing with his mind," Draco confessed.

Standing reluctantly he held out his hand for Harry. "Here’s probably the safest for both of us. No student would dare try and set a spy spell in Professor Snape’s quarters. I’ll just leave him a note that you’re, um, sleeping over?"

Grasping Draco’s hand, Harry stood as well, shifting his hips to adjust his trousers. "Can’t say its much dark magic considering Zabini doesn’t have much of a mind," he murmured, sliding his free hand around Draco’s waist. "Tell him what you want, Draco. He’s already ready to ki - curse me, hopefully he won’t do it if we’re in the same bed together." He placed a kiss on Malfoy’s temple as he spoke, then frowned. "How’s your head?"

"He’s just worried about me. Don’t take it personally. After all I bet Ron still wants to have my guts for garters despite winning our last match. And my head is still as hard as a rock. It’ll take more than a minor quidditch accident to do me in, honestly, oh, you mean the headache, pretty much gone thanks."

"You," Draco began. "I heard you, you know. The night of the game. I heard you come into the hospital wing. Of course I wanted to string you up by your ears just like those pixies did to Longbottom in second year. You can be such an arse, Potter, I sometimes wonder how I could ever feel about you the way I do."

"You heard?" Harry winced slightly, remembering what he’d said. "I meant it, and I _can_ be an arse, but you can be one too, you know."

As he spoke, he nudged Draco forward until they were walking toward the spare bedroom. "Think we can survive being arses together?"

Draco arched a silvery blond eyebrow. "I’ll have you know I am not an arse, Potter, I am an honest to Merlyn, bona fide, perfect pain in the arse and proud of it!" he teased the other boy. "But I’ve lived with you being an arse for the past six years. I can handle it a bit longer I think."

Harry smiled, careful to hide the expression against Draco’s neck. "Then perhaps you could live with..." He took a deep breath, pushing back his doubts and lingering fears about what would happen to Draco if they became lovers. "With being in my arse as well?"

Draco sucked his breath in quickly. Talk about a whopper of a question. "In the bedroom, if you please, now?" he husked, ushering Harry inside and then locking the door; he warded it and placed one of the strongest silencing spells he knew around the room.

"Now, to answer your question," Draco said serenely before turning and tackling Harry to the bed. "You’ve got three bloody seconds to get your clothes off so I can get to know your arse much better. Does that answer your question?" he grinned.

Feeling as if the weight of a thousand suns had been lifted from his shoulders, Harry laughed aloud while poking Draco in the shoulder. "Unless you want me to use a Leviosa on you, I’d say you’d better get off of me or there’s no way I’ll make your deadline."

"Gryffindors, absolutely no ingenuity and ruddy slow to boot," Draco tutted even as he unclasped his robe and slid out of his black crew neck shirt. Pale ivory skin gleamed in the candlelight and the faint light from the potbelly stove in the corner providing heat to the room. Even as Harry drew in a breath, Draco’s nimble fingers were already unbuttoning his trousers.

Giving in, at last, to necessity, Draco stood and quickly slithered out of the pants and toed off his socks. "Three seconds are up. You owe me a forfeit I think," he smirked.

"Name it," Harry murmured, frozen in awe, staring at Draco’s nude body lit only by the warm glow of the candles. "It’s yours."

"Oh, the power you’ve just handed me, Potter," Draco purred, his fingers trailing down his chest to pinch and pull on his nipples before one hand continued sliding down further, across taut and very visible quidditch hardened stomach muscles, through the white blond nest of curls to wrap around his semi-hard prick so that he could stroke himself to full arousal.

"So many possibilities, so many options. I think I’ll have to mull on it a while, after all I wouldn’t want it to go to waste, now would I?"

"I suppose that gives me time to strip down then." Harry rolled to his feet, eyes still locked on Draco as he shrugged out of his robe. Pausing only to slip the pendant back under his jumper, he tugged the knitted garment over his head, letting it fall to the floor.

Pants were next, and somewhere along the way he got his shoes off before he tripped himself up. Finally as nude as Draco, Harry arched his eyebrows, his breath coming in harsh pants as he watched the other teen play with himself. "Decided yet?"

"It took you much longer than the allotted time with the way you stalled," Draco reconsidered, "I think that’s at least two, possibly three forfeits you owe me. And yes, I have ideas. But those are for another night. In Gryffindor Tower," Draco purred, thinking of what he planned on doing to Harry right on the couch in the Gryffindor common room and then in Harry’s own bed.

Continuing to pull at a nipple and stroke his cock, Draco watched Harry’s reactions with an amused smirk. "See something you like, Potter?" he drawled.

"Three? I don’t think so!" Harry exclaimed before getting distracted by the rise and fall of Draco’s hand on his own body. "You could say so," he rasped, moving closer and covering Draco’s hand with one of his own while playing with the unattended nipple with his other fingers.

" _Three_ forfeits, Harry," Draco purred, leaning in closer to lick at the other seeker’s neck before moving unerringly to the place where his mark had rested for three long weeks. "It nearly broke my heart to watch it fade away little by little each day. I should have cast a never heal hex on it so you’d be forever marked by my mouth," the Slytherin whispered as he nipped at the once again unblemished skin.

"Three, Harry. Two for Gryffindor tower and one for right here," he continued hypnotically before latching onto the too soft skin of Potter’s throat and suckling hard, drawing blood to the surface as quickly as he could.

"Cast it later tonight," Harry whimpered, rocking his hips forward to brush against their hands and Draco’s cock. "And th-three forfeits, fine whatever, just - god - so good."

"But I haven’t even really touched you yet, Harry," Draco whispered against the moist flesh he’d just finished marking before drawing his lips up to rest next to the Gryffindor’s ear. "How can I be doing a good job when all I’ve done is suck on your neck? I haven’t stroked your cock, or licked it, or bitten your nipples, or," Draco grinned. "Oh there’s so much I haven’t done to you yet. Get on the bed, Harry. On your back."

Lust hazed Harry’s mind, making it so one minute he was on his feet and the next, on the bed, watching hungrily as Draco prowled toward him.

"Mmm, you do that so well, follow orders I mean," Draco smirked. "What if I were to order you to say... stroke your cock, for me, Harry. I want to watch you wank."

Harry’s laughter was pained. All this build up, and all Draco wanted to do was watch him have a wank? Oh, the cruel irony of it all.

Groaning, Harry dragged a pillow under his head so that he could watch the Slytherin without straining his neck. "I’d say this is your forfeit." His voice was surprisingly steady, but he sucked in a quick breath as he moved his hand to his erection, circling it and pulling at it.

"This paltry little thing? I don’t think so. Now if I were to ask you to stroke yourself for me _and_ fuck yourself on the toy of my choice, now that would be a forfeit," Draco teased, bending over the bed to lap the tiny drop of precum that appeared at the top of Harry’s cock before it could be wiped away.

Climbing onto the bed next to him, Draco laid his head on Harry’s stomach, so close that the Gryffindor could feel Draco’s hot breath on his cock every time he exhaled. "Show me how you wank."

Harry could feel the heat rising in his face at Draco’s deliberately crude description, a heat that flowed through the rest of his body and threatened to erupt when he felt the teasing lick over the tip of his shaft.

"Jesus," he whispered, knowing Draco could feel his stomach muscles quiver against his cheek. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to relax and let his body fall into the rhythm it did when he did this alone. After a few slow strokes of his hand over his cock, he paused, rubbing his thumb over the now slick head. Moving faster now, enough to add the edge of need to the whole thing, but not enough to bring himself off.

Grinning wickedly, Draco suddenly darted forward and licked along the top of Harry’s shaft like he would have licked an ice-lolly. "Mmmm, delicious," he laughed, reaching the head of Harry’s shaft and sucking on it for long moments before moving back to his original position.

Hooking one arm under Harry’s leg, Draco began to roll and fondle the other boy’s balls, his fingers slipping down further every once in a while, across his perineum and down to his anus, tracing over it lightly before moving back up again. Each time Draco’s fingers touched the tiny pucker, Harry bucked and moaned. Draco couldn’t wait to flip the Gryffindor over and teach him the pleasures of rimming.

Whining in a way that would have had him dying of embarrassment if he had been aware of it, Harry arched upward, his hand moving faster over his cock and his hips twisting as he spread his thighs wider, silently begging Draco for more.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Draco pulled back a little further and then very calmly said. "Harry, I want you to stop. Right now."

"Stop?" Draco had to be kidding - or perhaps this was some final revenge for his own cruelty... Pushing that thought from his mind, Harry forced himself to stop moving and lie still except for the heaving breaths causing his chest to rise and fall.

"So good," Draco purred, licking at the indent of Harry’s navel before sitting up. "Roll over onto your stomach, Harry, and put a couple of pillows under your hips. Oh and in case you’re wondering, I made you stop because you’re not going to come until I’m buried deep inside of your gorgeously tight arse, fucking you like there’s no tomorrow."

Just those words almost did Harry in, and he shuddered, his cock flushed and hard against his belly. Still amazed that he was following Draco’s commands without even a word of argument, he carefully flipped over, shoving the pillow under his hips and groaning as it rubbed his erection.

Pushing up on his elbows, he looked back at Draco, lust darkening his green eyes. "Like that?"

Draco could only nod his head as his eyes darkened to stormy pewter, his whole body quivering with lust. "You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Merlyn and Morganna, I want to devour you," Draco murmured as he moved between Harry’s legs. "I _am_ going to devour you," he promised darkly just before he murmured a cleansing charm almost silently, then bent down and licked a path down to Harry’s anus, flicking his tongue back and forth across the tiny opening.

Harry’s whole body spasmed, and he bit down on his lip until it bled to keep from screaming. Draco was, and it felt... Now rocking back and forth, his whole body vibrating in pleasure, Harry begged, not recognizing the voice as his own.

Smirking at the reaction of the youth beneath him, Draco began to slowly lap at the tender flesh, making sure Harry could feel everything before he started making a dart of his tongue and stabbing it inwards, breaching Harry’s hole a little more each time. Tongue fucking the Gryffindor, Draco took a few breathless moments to accio some lubrication before plying his tongue more fiercely.

"God, fuck, Draco please!" Harry begged, his back curving into a deep arch as he all but offered himself to the blond, knowing that there was only one thing that could feel better then this and craving it.

"Soon, Harry, I promise," Draco whispered against the tiny ring of flesh before pulling back. "I won’t let you be hurt which means I need to do this," the Slytherin groaned as he took one well-lubricated finger and slid it slowly inside his lover’s body, stretching Harry little by little.

Working the finger back and forth he was soon able to add a second, which he began to move back and forth, gently tugging at and stretching Harry’s anus as quickly as he could without causing too much pain.

Yes, it hurt, but it was insignificant compared to the aching need building in Harry and he growled with frustration, pushing back against Draco’s fingers fiercely. "Just do it, Draco, before I go off the deep end!" Those marvelously clever fingers hit his prostate, and Harry shuddered.

"Harry," Draco breathed, kissing a tender kiss to the center of his lover’s back before he withdrew his fingers and slid up so that he was in position. "I... you... you know I lov... have feelings for you, right?" Draco asked. Saying it even once had been painful enough, he wasn’t ready to try it a second time, not just yet.

Steadying himself, Draco slowly pushed into the tight, barely stretched channel, stopping when Harry gasped and continuing on when Potter moaned until he was at last buried deep within him. "You’re mine, now, Harry Potter, all mine."

Panting as he became used to the pain that slowly transformed into a fullness that made him ache in another way, Harry nodded, reaching back to catch Malfoy’s hand and grip it tightly. "Means you’re mine too," he rasped, twisting his head to look back at Draco, his dark hair falling to the side to expose his scar. "No one else’s."

"Too bloody right," Draco agreed quickly, pressing hot kisses to Harry’s back. "Wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else anyway. It’s always been you, Harry, even when it was hate, it was always you." Curling his fingers around Harry’s Draco slowly pulled out and then sank back in; feeling the tight body beneath his stretch to accommodate him, fit him perfectly. "I could, I never knew it could be like this Harry."

Nodding wordlessly, Harry gripped Draco’s fingers like a lifeline, feeling as if they were the only things that could keep him from blowing apart into a million bits because of how good, how right this all felt. His cock was trapped between his stomach and the pillow, and was recovering quickly from the first pain of being entered, and he moaned, clenching his arse around Draco’s shaft.

"Love you," he whispered, almost sick with fear, but, much as Draco had felt before, he couldn’t go without saying the words, at least once.

"Oh Merlyn," Draco’s hips slowed and then stilled, his fingers clenched harder at Harry’s, holding on for all he was worth. "Say that again. Please, I need you to say that again," he whispered roughly.

"What?" Harry’s voice was distracted, almost frantic at the loss of sensation, then he calmed, took a deep breath and looked back over his shoulder again.. "I love you, Draco Malfoy," he stated clearly before raising the other teen’s fingers to his lips to kiss them.

"Thank you," he whispered to whatever deities looked after formerly reprehensible people even as his hips began to move once more. It was just what he needed to hear to spur him on. Over and over he thrust, his tempo increasing until he was slapping against Harry’s arse loudly enough to be heard. One hand unthreaded itself from Harry’s and, guiding both Harry and himself up onto their knees, reached underneath the Gryffindor to seek out and grasp his cock, stroking it in time with Draco’s thrusts.

Feeling Draco’s fingers wrap around his erection drove all regrets that the blond hadn’t answered in kind from Harry’s mind, and he lowered his head to his forearms, rocking back against Draco’s increasingly energetic thrusts and trying not to scream.

What emerged from his throat as his orgasm boiled over him was a rough wail that seemed to echo in his ears as he came over Malfoy’s hand and the bed beneath them.

"Yes, Harry, Merlyn yes!" Draco moaned, feeling the other teen clench around him and the hot splash of semen on his hand. It was enough to drive Malfoy over the edge as well and with a few more desperate thrusts he was sending spurt after spurt of his seed into Harry’s body even as he sagged over the Gryffindor, exhausted but happier than he had ever been in his life.


	9. Chapter 9

Harry lay there, eyes closed, listening to the arrhythmic sounds of his heart and Draco’s beating in their chests and their panting gasps for air. As both slowed, he reached back with his free hand to stroke Malfoy’s side, wincing lightly as the move pulled at muscles he hadn’t realized he’d had.

"Oh bugger, I’ve got to be crushing you!" Draco mumbled, rolling off of Harry and onto his side. "I’m sorry, I didn’t hurt you did I?" he asked quietly, searching the other teen’s face for any sign of distress. "Never meant to lose it like that but you were very inspiring, I’ll have you know." Opening his arms in silent invitation, Draco hoped Harry would take him up on it and let Draco hold him tight.

Moving into Draco’s embrace, Harry shifted until his body ached a bit less, then relaxed. "If you think I’m going to complain about that, you’re cracked, Malfoy," he murmured, raising his head from Draco’s shoulder to kiss his jaw. "And for the record, you weren’t crushing me. You’ve still got that skinny seeker’s build. Another year and I’ll probably have to switch off - if I’m playing."

"Potter," Draco growled menacingly even as his arms closed gently around the smaller man. "For the sake of my dubious mental stability and to avoid fights after sex let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that you _will_ be around next year. Despite my reputation, I have never hexed a partner out of bed after a shag session but you’re coming perilously close to being my first!"

Harry shook his head, understanding how Draco could have taken what he said that way. "No need to do that. I meant, after we’re out of school, who knows if there’ll be time for quidditch, that’s all."

Heaving a sigh of relief that they had avoided a rather sticky area of conversation, Draco absently muttered ‘accio wand’ and cast a cleaning charm on them both before pulling the covers up over their sweat covered but cooling bodies. Placing a tender kiss between Harry’s shoulder blades, Draco let the drowsy lethargy of being sated wash over him. "What do you want to do after you graduate, Harry? I gather you don’t want to play professional Quidditch though I’m sure you’d be smashing at it. An auror perhaps? Or a teacher?"

Sliding his hand up over Draco’s where it lay against his chest, Harry closed his fingers around the blond’s. "I always thought I wanted to be an auror like Sirius, you know, fight evil, save people. Now though... I’m honestly not sure. What about you?"

"You mean apart from being my father’s whipping boy, a dark wizard and a good little Voldie supporter?" Draco replied somewhat bitterly. "Honestly, I expected to be dead so I never really gave it a whole lot of thought. Now, I guess potions master or maybe Minister of Magic or an Unspeakable perhaps. That is if the ministry will stop looking at me as a junior Death Eater and son of a deceased dark wizard. That would seem to suit me well," he mused. "I guess I’ll have to think about it. I mean it’s not like I _have_ to do anything after Hogwarts. I just kind of want to."

"Mmm," Harry nodded in agreement as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Draco’s hand to soothe him. "Of course we could both just run away to Bermuda you know, be beach bums and live a life of sin and moral turpitude."

"Bermuda? And have all those silly muggle gits come nosing around simply because there’s one of the world’s only natural port keys to... I forget where it goes, but anyway just because there’s a natural port key there that they keep stumbling on so that we have to keep obliviating them to forget they’ve stumbled upon it? Thank you, no.

"No, if we’re going to run away, Potter, we must do it with style. The south of France would be too close... Monaco? The French Antilles perhaps or maybe our own little island somewhere off of South America, Yes, I think that works best. That way we can have house elves to take care of us. I could live with that," Draco grinned down at the dark head resting on his shoulder. "I think I could live very nicely with that."

Harry chuckled quietly at the thought. "Far be it from me to impinge on Malfoy style," he laughed, "though I think you’d look rather fetching in a bright flowery shirt and shorts even if you knees are a tad knobby."

"Excuse me?" Draco replied indignantly. "I think you have me mistaken for someone else, Potter. My knees are _perfect_ like everything else about me. You obviously need to look in to getting a stronger prescription for your glasses, git," the blond Slytherin finished with an imperious sniff. Imagine, Potter suggesting that anything about him wasn’t perfect, how very common!

And then the comment on wardrobe sank in. Malfoy began to sputter. "Flowery... and bermuda...? Bloody hell, Potter, I’m calling St. Mungo’s first thing in the morning to have you locked up. Of all the insane things I’ve heard in my life to suggest that _I_ would be caught dead in anything so tacky just takes the pudding!"

At the mention of pudding, Harry’s stomach, which hadn’t seen food all day, rumbled loudly enough to be heard over his laughter. "Well, now I know what to call you on when it’s my chance to have you owing me a forfeit. I think you’d look quite the picture in violet and chartreuse, oh and lets not forget the black sandals with knee socks." He dissolved into laughter at the thought of Draco dressed in an outfit Harry had had the misfortune of seeing Uncle Vernon in once when he was allowed to go on holiday.

"And before you wallop me, is there any chance of getting a bite to eat? Since we both missed the evening meal, I’d say we need it."

"A Malfoy would _never_ wear that!" Draco replied, horrified. "Death before making a bad fashion statement and all that!" he proclaimed dramatically even as he placed one last kiss on Harry’s neck before rolling out of bed.

"Right then, seeing as how Dobby loves you and hates me how about you fire talk down the kitchen and order enough food for the both of us and I’ll disappear into the washroom to run us a bath to soak in while we wait. And make sure he brings trifle. And whipped cream... and roast goose and stuffing and cranberries and definitely roasted parsnips, I love roasted parsnips... and rolls, oh and our Christmas crackers from Dumbletwit and...I guess I’d best let you choose a few things too."

"I’m not sure there will be anything left to choose once he puts together that list," Harry laughed, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the pull of muscles previously unused to the way they had been stretched.

Wondering just how he was going to explain away being in Snape’s rooms, Harry stood, self-consciously pulling on his trousers even though he knew Dobby wouldn’t be able to see him through the fire. Feeling something in his pocket, he frowned and pulled it out, staring down at the bit of greenery in his hand blankly before recalling Dumbledore had given it to him and the words that had accompanied it.

"Draco..." he called, sputtering in laughter and collapsing to the floor, managing to hold the bit of mistletoe up for the other boy to see when he stuck his head out of the washroom.

Draco growled menacingly and with a bit of wandless magic set the horrid green plant on fire before slamming the door behind him while muttering about offensive greenery! Of course once the door had closed a huge smile lit his face. Now if only he could get the pig-headed Gryffindor to stop planning his own death.

There was no way around it this time; Draco was going to need help, which meant a quick letter to Hermione when Harry wasn’t looking with a p.s. for the Gryffindor girl to involve her boyfriend and hopefully keep Draco’s name out of it. Which led Draco to another question. Was Harry going to tell Hermione and the Weasel about them?

After speaking to Dobby and calming the house elf when he realized just where his friend was, Harry recited the list Draco had given him, adding a few of his favorites he’d seen on the tables earlier - if they were still available. Once Dobby had assured him they were and that the food would be there as quickly as he could manage, Harry thanked him and cut off the conversation, standing and stretching again.

"You’ll get your parsnips and your cracker," he called, knowing he was grinning like a loon, but not caring. It was Christmas and he was in love - could anything be better then that?

"Good, now come in here and scrub my back would you?" Draco called out from bathroom where he was ensconced; neck deep, in hot bubble laden water.

"Since when is servant written on my forehead?" Harry laughed, shedding his trousers as he walked into the bathroom and carefully climbing into the clawfoot tub behind Draco, hissing as the move pulled at sore muscles and the hot water hit tender flesh.

Taking one of Harry’s hands in his own, Draco began to suck on the Gryffindor’s fingers, giving each one lavish attention. "Actually, it says ‘Draco Malfoy’s love slave’ on your forehead and ‘Property of DM’ on your arse, if you want to know the truth," the blond chuckled, moving back a little more so that Harry’s cock was pressed between the cheeks of his own arse.

"And it’s my civic duty to keep you out of mischief over Christmas holidays so I’m thinking of ways to distract you that will be beneficial to me."

Harry snorted out a laugh although he was distracted by the feel of Draco’s tongue sliding over his fingers. "Perhaps I should take up a hobby. I’m sure the headmaster will consult with me on growing new strains of mistletoe."

"Potter, the only thing talking about that obnoxious weed will get you is a singed scrotum, do I make myself clear?" Draco retorted as he glared at the other teen over his shoulder, his eyes promising dire things. "You and Dumbletwit, much too scary to contemplate. Really!"

"Burn my balls and that’s the last you’ll get near them," Harry retorted, scooping up a handful of bubbles and dabbing them on Draco’s nose.

"HA!" Draco snorted, batting Harry’s hand away and wiping off the suds. "You like it to much when I suck on them and roll them in my hands and play with them while I deep throat your cock and the way they feel when mine slaps into yours while I’m reaming you out. Now admit it, Potter, you’re addicted to me. Not that I can blame you, I am perfect after all."

Harry cleared his throat. "I repeat; you burn them, you stay away from them."

"My, you really _are_ vanilla, Potter," Draco teased, squirming slightly in the sudsy water. Picking up a cloth he handed it to the Gryffindor and then lay back against Harry’s chest, his head pillowed in the crook between neck and shoulder. "Here, make yourself useful."

"Sod off, Malfoy," Harry sighed, shaking his head and nipping at Draco’s ear as he began to wash the other boy’s chest. "You’re full of yourself enough as it is, I’m not giving you cause to become more conceited."

"It’s confidence, Potter, not conceit. You really need to learn the difference," Draco laughed, his fingers tracing idle patterns over the legs that bracketed him. "Pott, Harry, what are you going to tell Hermione and the Weasel? About us I mean? Are you going to tell them at all?"

"I..." In all truth, Harry hadn’t thought about it, but he did now. If he kept quiet about this relationship, it would be one more stone in the wall they were trying so hard to breech. If he confided in Ron and Hermione, they could comfort Draco if the worst happened and the prophecy was true.

"Yes, I’m going to tell them," he murmured. "I owe it to them, and us."

"So if I find myself on the business end of Weasley’s wand once school commences I’ll know he’s defending your honor from the git with the ‘tricky hands’ then," Draco smirked. "Not that he’d stand a chance. The only person who’s ever beaten me in a Wizard’s Duel is currently doing lovely things to my libido as he services me ever so nicely," Malfoy teased before turning his head to press a tender kiss against Harry’s jaw.

"You want to stay on my good side and keep me interested in your libido, you’ll lay off on the Weasel comments too," Harry answered, sinking lower into the water and pressing himself fully against Draco’s back. "And keep your libido under control, our meal will be here before too long and I intend to eat when it arrives."

"I could offer to let you use me as a plate," Draco purred, turning over so that he was lying on top of Harry. Bringing his arms up around his lover’s neck he sighed. "And I suppose I could attempt to be _nice_. I’m not sure I know how to but I can try. It’s just more habit than anything else, really. My mother was less than impressed that Molly married someone who hated her husband as much as Arthur hated my father. Of course my father hated him just as much so, the poison dripped down, you know?"

Harry nodded and ran the cloth up and over Draco’s shoulder. "Hard to break habits that are bred into you I suppose, and don’t be nice, he’d think you were going to change him into a bone and give him to Fang or some such rot. Just, shite, I don’t know. I do know he gives as good as he gets so Hermione or I’ll have to sit on him until things settle down some."

He then recalled what Draco had offered. "No jam, so I’ll stick to a real plate this time."

"Oh, I don’t know, there’s custard and whipped cream and raspberries in trifle," Draco smirked. "Right then, I’ll just use _you_ as my plate. I rather fancy the idea of licking custard and cream from your body and watching you moan and try to stay still as I do it."

"And you’re so sure I asked for any of that? You said you wanted parsnips, that’s all you’re getting."

"Potter," Draco growled menacingly. "For the first time in a month I have more than a bird’s appetite. There had better be real food out there or I might just have to gnaw on you, got it?"

"Kinky, Malfoy, I’m impressed." Draco started to growl, and Harry kissed him. "Considering Dobby’s worried about me starving, I daresay we’ll see at least as much food as was on the table earlier."

"Poor, wretched creature. He’s having little luck getting rid of the Malfoys. First my father and then me here at school and now... us. He might not be pleased to see me with you like this. Not that I can blame him. Father used to use house elves for... experiments," Draco shuddered.

"But enough of morbid subjects. I think I smell food!" Draco announced, pushing up out of the tub and grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist. Flinging the door open he caused the house elf in question to let loose a startled shriek and back into a corner.

"Oh for Lucifer’s, Potter, he’s your elf, you deal with it!" Draco demanded, ignoring both his lover and the cowering creature as he walked over to a set of drawers to pull out some clean lounging pajamas for both himself and Harry.

"If Harry Potter wanted a bath, Harry Potter should have told Dobby! Dobby would have run one! Harry Potter didn’t need to share with, with..." Impossibly large eyes widened even further and Dobby pushed himself into the corner, staying as far away from Draco as possible.

"Dobby," When the house elf only whimpered and hunched his shoulders, Harry sighed and crouched down on the floor, grateful he’d followed Draco’s lead and wrapped a towel around himself. "Dobby, Draco isn’t like his father. He won’t hurt you, and he can’t make you hurt yourself."

Getting no response from this, Harry tried another tactic. "Dobby, do you trust me?"

"Harry Potter freed Dobby. Dobby would give his life for Harry Potter."

Harry couldn’t help the wince that answered engendered. "But do you trust me?"

Dobby slowly turned away from the wall, his shoulders still hunched in the festive Christmas sweater he wore as his only garment. "Dobby trusts Harry Potter with his life."

"Good, then trust me when I say Draco is a friend. My friend. Your friend. He - we just can’t let everyone know that right now. Do you understand?"

"Secret friends?"

"Yes, secret friends." Harry glanced over his shoulder at Draco, smiling in relief. "And it’s very important that no one else knows about this or Draco or I might get hurt."

The house elf shook his head violently. "Harry Potter will not get hurt!"

"I won’t if you keep the secret." Harry straightened up, catching his towel before it dropped to the floor. "Thank you, Dobby. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me."

Draco listened to the conversation with half an ear, carrying on as he normally would but staying on his side of the room and not making any moves towards Harry or the house elf. Slipping the towel off, he stepped into the black lounging silks and slid the shirt on but left it unbuttoned.

Looking in the mirror Draco decided to not bother with the slick look but instead just brushed his hair quickly. So, Dobby would do anything to keep Harry safe, hrm? It sounded like Draco had another name to add to his list of ‘Potter spies’. By the time he was done he’d have an army. Let Harry try and get through that, let Voldemort try anything.

Draco wondered if it were possible to contact Lupin and some of the other Weasleys, at least anonymously. Wood too, perhaps, and Hagrid, and maybe even McGonagall. Speaking of...Draco’s eyes darkened in concentration as a rather devious and Slytherin thought came to him. He’d broach the subject with Dumbledore and Uncle Sev tomorrow at the meeting they were to have and see what their opinions were, and if they could be persuaded to help.

Having calmed Dobby and sent him back to his kin after another round of Merry Christmas, Harry turned back toward Draco, his eyebrows raising in appreciation of the fine figure the Slytherin cut. The black silk made his pale skin glow and his white blond hair shine like silver.

"He’ll be all right now, I think. I suppose it was a little disconcerting for him, seeing us like that."

"No doubt, especially considering that as far as I know house elves are exclusively heterosexual. Apparently they haven’t reached the stage where procreation isn’t the driving force in their lives.

"Ugh, breeding. But I suppose if I want to continue the Malfoy line I’ll need to find a suitable witch who will help. Then again, why would I want the Malfoy line to continue, it hasn’t exactly been a good influence on the wizarding world. What about you, Harry, ever thought about building a family dynasty of your own? A world of Gryffindor crazed Potters running amok?"

"Are you saying you want to have my baby?" Harry asked, pulling on the charcoal gray pajamas Draco tossed his way, treating it like a joke because he couldn’t deal with it any other way at this time. "I think we’re a little young, don’t you?"

"What, and ruin my girlish figure?" Draco replied, moving to stand in profile. "Although if I did I’d positively glow with maternal radiance, after all I am," Draco snickered, " _perfect_."

"And speaking of ruining girlish figures. food!" with that Draco dove across the bed to reach the dinner tray Dobby brought up and, lifting the lid, began to pick at bits of everything in rapid succession.

"Oi, you eat my candied yams and you’re a dead man!" Harry hollered, diving after Draco and scrabbling for his own share before they settled back against the pillows feeding themselves and each other until most of the plates only held scraps.

"You’re going to have to roll me out of here," Harry groaned, rubbing his stomach and belching indelicately. "’Scuse me. So, want to pull our crackers - and be warned, Malfoy, you make a perverted comment about that and I get them both."

Draco quirked an eyebrow haughtily. "Only you would suggest such a thing. I mean please, Potter, one should not think of Dumbledore’s crackers and sex in the same sentence. That’s just so icky!

"And just for that, you can go first. I can’t wait to see what you got."

"To see if you can swipe it you mean," Harry laughed, grasping the ends of the cracker and pulling on them.

Draco watched with undisguised glee as chartreuse top hat decorated with a huge fuchsia rose and matching bow appeared from a cloud of smoke along with a key with wings that kept dive-bombing Potter’s head. Dumbledore did, however, include a very thoughtful present, an enchanted snake made of silver that hissed at Harry, making him start with surprise.

"Would this be a practical demonstration of parseltongue at work?" Draco asked with a quirk of an eyebrow before reaching over and plopping the hat on Harry’s head. "Tradition, Harry, its tradition."

"It’s asking why I’m wearing such a hideous hat," Harry sighed. "And just remember, that tradition holds true for you too." Setting the snake on the nightstand where it curled up around the base of the candlestick, Harry then reached for Draco’s cracker, handing it over with mock formality.

"On second thought," Draco replied, backing away from the thing as if it contained a live boomslang, "maybe I’ll wait to open mine, say forever!"

"Open it, Malfoy," Harry murmured, crawling after Draco until he had him pinned against the headboard. "It’s tradition."

Sighing, Draco gave in not so gracefully and took hold of one end of the cracker, pulling it sharply. "I really hate you sometimes, you know that, right?" he groaned, afraid to look and see what had appeared.

Brilliant sparkles illuminated the bedroom before fading to reveal a rainbow striped top hat with a white daisy growing out of the crown. A verdant sprig of mistletoe buzzed around Draco’s head before attaching itself to the brim of his hat.

"I know you do," Harry smiled, picking up the top hat to plop it on Draco’s head, causing the last present to roll out of it. The tiny gold dragon flipped itself to its feet and struggled up Draco’s leg to his knee where it settled down, puffing smoke from its nostrils.

Draco, who had been adamantly avoiding the top hat, let out a small sound of pleasure as he picked the fierce little fellow up. "Oh," he blinked and his face lit up like a child in a candy store for the first time. "It’s, I can’t remember the last time I received a frivolous gift, it’s beautiful," Draco cooed, stroking the little dragon’s back. "You’re worth the hideous hat with the weed that must die. I think I’m going to have to take you everywhere with me. My very own pocket dragon."

"Think I could shrink you down so I can say the same?" Harry asked, not entirely joking.

Eyeing Harry carefully, Draco reached for his wand and a piece of the paper the Christmas cracker had been wrapped in. With a quick transfiguration spell and another spell to lock the first one into place Draco took one of Harry’s hands and, opening it palm up, place a tiny doll in the palm of his hand.

"It’s the best I can do on short notice, hope it’s good enough," he murmured.

Smiling down at the small, cartoon version of Draco now lying in his hand, Harry leaned over and kissed the blond youth gently. "Thank you. He’s not quite as good as the real thing, but he’ll keep me company when you can’t." He grew sober then, coming to the realization that he’d been given gifts, but had nothing to share in return.

Draco beamed. "I used to think it was a rather useless spell to know until I came to Hogwarts. I’ve used it an awful lot this year, conjuring things for the first years. Being away from home for the first time is rather difficult, especially when you’re sorted Slytherin. Of course they all knew better than to say I did it but..." Draco smiled, "it stopped a lot of them from bawling like the insufferable brats they are and I got my beauty sleep so it was worth it."

Running a finger over the tiny replica of his lover, Harry carefully set it by the candlestick where his silver snake rested. The serpent raised its head, flicking its tongue out to taste the air before coiling downward and rearranging itself around the doll’s waist.

Knowing Draco wouldn’t want to hear him going on about what a good thing it was he’d done, Harry grinned. "You say you’ve had your beauty sleep and you still look like that? Oi, we need to borrow a time turner and let you go unmolested for a year or so."

Draco narrowed his eyes and glanced down at his new toy dragon. "Sic him," he growled and laughed in delight as the golden dragon took to the air and began to blow smoke in Harry’s face. "Don’t you know by now, Potter, it isn’t wise to bait a dragon. What was that silly thing Hermione teased me about once... oh yes, something called a comical strip and in it was a very apropos saying. ‘Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons for thou art crunchy and taste good with catsup!’"

Sneezing as some of the sulfur-laden smoke went up his nose, Harry dodged the small dragon to lie in the lap of the larger one. "Funny, I always thought dragons like to eat things with cream..."

"HA! You finally admitted to being a cream puff! Damn, where’s a recording spell when you need one?"

"Another fine example of Slytherin wit! Many more like that and I might crack a smile."

Draco stuck his tongue out at the other teen but refrained from saying anything else. Instead he simply made himself more comfortable, chuckling softly to himself when the toy dragon decided to curl up on the top of Harry’s hair. "Well you have to admit, Potter, it does rather resemble a nest," he smirked.

"If I have to shave my head because he gets stuck in there, I’m going to give you razor burn," Harry threatened, reaching up to move the dragon then yelping when the toy singed his finger with a burst of real flame.

"I don’t think he wants to move. He looks rather comfortable there," Draco replied mildly but nonetheless reached down and plucked the toy out, ignoring the tiny growls it made. "Trust me, you don’t want to sleep in there, he might squash you. Besides, a fine fellow like you needs a bed of silk to sleep on. So..." Draco shrugged out off his shirt and wadded it up on the table next to his side of the bed. "A bed fit for a dragon. Now be a good little fellow and go to sleep so I can convince a certain Gryffindor to let this dragon go to sleep too," Draco yawned.

Harry yawned as well, unable to help himself. "Do I look as if I’m keeping you from your sleep?" he asked, groaning as he sat up and cleared the tray full of empty bowls from the bed. "I’m right knackered myself." Another yawn threatened to dislocate his jaw as he took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand next to his snake and the miniature Draco.

"Think my shoulder can be a bed fit for a dragon too?" he asked, holding out his arms, already anticipating how waking with Draco curled up next to him would feel and realizing it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the real thing when he suddenly had an armful of cuddly, sleepy Draco to contend with.

Harry couldn’t have been happier.


	10. Chapter 10

"What is _he_ doing here?" Ron growled menacingly, looking from Hermione to Draco and back again. His hands clenched into fists and he desperately fought the urge to reach for his own wand because Hermione had her hand on hers and that glint in her eyes that said ‘I’m on to you, you try it and you get hexed’.

Draco, who had been lounging quite comfortably against Professor McGonagall’s desk, simply smirked and held his tongue. He had promised Harry he’d be civil and his mother had always cautioned him that if he couldn’t say anything nice it was prudent to keep his mouth shut, so he wasn’t saying anything at all.

Of course it didn’t hurt him to know that by keeping his mouth shut he was probably enraging the youngest Weasley male to no end but he was still doing what Harry had asked of him.

"I still say he’s bewitched Harry," Ron went on, getting his head of steam, "why else would Harry, sweet, honest, _Gryffindor_ Harry want to have anything to do with the slimy, arrogant bastard Slytherin he’s hated for the past six years? I’m telling you, ‘mione, he’s messed with Harry’s mind he has!"

All the plans Harry had made on how he was going to tell Ron about this flew out the window along with a good portion of his temper. "Hate to tell you, Ron, but I knew I was gay long before I fell in love with Draco, so that’s something he had nothing to do with."

While Ron sputtered, his eyes as wide as saucers, and Hermione gave that self-satisfied nod that he knew so well, Harry stepped over to Draco’s side and slid an arm around his waist, careful to avoid the pocket where his dragon rested

Resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, Draco beamed beatifically. "And here I thought you’d be proud of him Weas...ley. Potter’s tamed the Slytherin prince, not that anyone can know about it."

"And why the bloody hell not, personally I’m all for taking out an ad in the Daily Prophet," Ron snapped, off balance and furious and not able to take it out on the most readily available target

"Because that would get Draco killed, Ron," Hermione sighed, fighting the urge to smack him on the head with her wand.

"Something we’re trying to avoid for all of us," Harry added.

"Get killed? He’s a bloody Slytherin git, a Voldemort follower! If anyone’s going to get killed its Harry!" Ron replied stubbornly, still clinging to the animosity he felt for the other boy, one that had existed between the Weasleys and Malfoys for longer than either boy had been alive and conveniently forgetting that he had actually worked together with Malfoy at the beginning of the year, albeit unwillingly, and that Harry was his summeneo for some reason. Good riddance to bad rubbish as far as he was concerned. After all, Malfoy had called Hermione a mudblood!

Draco’s head shot up and his eyes narrowed to slits. Sliding out of Harry’s embrace he stalked towards the redhead, his hand twitching to grab his wand. Instead he merely grabbed the front of Ron’s robe and shook him hard. "Never _ever_ say that around me, Weasley or you will find out just how much I _did_ learn from my father. Do you understand me? Never again suggest that Harry is going to die because of me. If you do, you’ll go first!"

"Draco," Harry said quietly, placing his hand on the blond’s arm until the Slytherin let go of Ron’s robe.

Ron looked pleased, that is, until Harry turned his attention to him. "Ron, you’re my oldest friend, my best friend, but if you ever say that about Draco again," He trailed off, not knowing what he’d do.

Hermione tried to fill the silence that followed. "Snapping at each other isn’t going to do any of us any good you know. We all want the same thing here, to see Voldemort dead. Can we at least agree on that?"

Draco stared menacingly at Ron for a few seconds longer, making the redhead squirm slightly. He had a very strong suspicion that for once in his annoying life Malfoy meant exactly what he had said; if Ron talked about Harry dying he’d find himself in the infirmary in next to no time, if not in a coffin.

Ron had never actually seen Malfoy look so murderously protective of anyone. The fact that it was _Harry_ did more to convince the redhead that Malfoy was on the up and up than anything he’d heard.

After a few more seconds Draco let out a disgusted snort and wheeled, stalking over to a window to look out. "You deserve better than that, ‘mione, but it’s your life and your choice," he said with an arrogant lift to his chin.

"Right, fine. Then would somebody bloody well explain to me why Malfoy would die, and Harry, tell him to mind his own bloody business about Hermione and me. And don’t call her ’ _mione!_ "

Harry opened his mouth to explain, and then shut it. He couldn’t just blurt out Draco’s secret, not without feeling ill, so he canted a sidelong look at the other teen.

Hermione smiled at Draco, and slid her arm through the crook of Ron’s elbow. "Once you two stop nattering on like two dogs after each other you’ll see you’re both quite all right blokes."

Shooting Hermione a grateful look, Draco broke down and confessed, after making sure that the silencing charm was firmly in place and wards were set up to detect anyone trying to eavesdrop and to break the silencing charm.

"The reason I would die, Weasley, is because I’m not actually on Voldemort’s side. I’m doing the same thing my godfather is, except among the students. I’m spying for Dumbledore," Draco informed Ron with cool indifference.

"And the reason I could die is because some of the students are already Death Eaters, they just haven’t received their mark. They follow willingly and blindly and because I am Lucius Malfoy’s son and heir, and my father until his dying mistake was Voldemort’s loyal right hand, they perceive me to be like my father. I am privy to a great deal of information that the Slytherin students have overheard from their families and so called friends. I know things that Snape might not know or consider important unless that knowledge was added to other bits and pieces to form a whole.

"However, if it were discovered that I am a traitor you can rest assured I would be brought before Voldemort by any means necessary and I would probably meet a fate worse than what happened to my father. There are actually worse ways to die then over exposure to Crucio before being ‘Avada Kedavara’d. So there you have it. And now you have my very life in your hands, Weasley, my you must feel quite powerful right now."

Harry and Hermione both remained silent, both of them watching Ron’s expression.

Ron groaned in defeat. At any other time he’d be dancing on the tables now, he finally had something to hold over Malfoy. But if doing so meant losing Harry and quite possibly Hermione... "Bollocks’ ‘ ‘, all right, I’ll keep my mouth shut, not that I have much choice with that silentium spell," he sighed, sulking.

Hermione leaned over and kissed Ron’s cheek. "Thank you," she murmured, squeezing his arm. "You _are_ a good bloke."

"Why don’t I think this came as a surprise to you, Hermione?" Harry asked, tilting his head to look at her closely.

She smiled mysteriously. "Oh, let’s just put it down to a witch’s intuition."

Draco snorted. "Now there’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one," he sniped but without heat. "Shall I start calling you Trelawney now?"

"Do that and _I’ll_ hex you!" Hermione threatened, waving her wand in his direction.

Harry chuckled, feeling himself relax a bit at the banter. "If you do that, kindly remember I have to look at Draco to kiss him so don’t make him too horrid."

Ron made some quiet gagging noises at the thought of Harry and Malfoy _snogging_. "Too much information, Harry. Way too much information!" he moaned.

Draco, on the other hand, quirked an eyebrow and gave Potter a rather put out look. "After a comment like that, Potter, you can consider any and all offers withdrawn. Besides, you wouldn’t hex me, Hermione, because if you did who would you have to compete with? Not that there’s much of a competition considering I’m still top in two more classes than you are. You’re slowing down, old girl."

"It’s not two more classes, Draco, it’s two. Arithmancy and Potions and your lead in Arithmancy is growing slimmer by the day," she shot back, patting Ron on the back to help him recover from his shock.

"Planning on holding out on me, Malfoy?" Harry asked, amused. "If you do that, want to guess what I’ll start obsessing over again?"

"Blackmail, Potter?" Draco asked with a feigned gasp. "How perfectly Slytherin of you. Next thing I know you’ll start talking dirty to me in parseltongue."

"And my marks are slipping because I’m working on an extracurricular project with Professor McGonagall, I’ll have you know. Never fear, they’ll be back up soon!"

"What extracurricular project?" Hermione asked, even as Harry muttered a few words in parseltongue, knowing they sounded dirty even though he was only telling Draco to suck lemons.

Draco pantomimed sealing his lips and winked at the frizzy haired witch. There was no way he was going to confess, with Harry in the room anyways, that he was taking animagi lessons from the transfigurations professor to aid him in his quest to keep his idiot Gryffindor lover out of danger to the best of his ability.

Watching Ron turn a slightly pale shade of green as the redhead listened to his and Harry’s banter gave Draco an idea, however. "I guess this means we’d best be putting a permanent silencing charm around your bed, Potter. After all, you never know when I might sneak in for a shag or ten."

Ron moaned and buried his face in his arms. "Enough, enough, I surrender. No more, please!" he begged piteously.

Harry honestly wasn’t sure if Ron’s sick look was more from the thought of hearing Draco and him or the idea of a Slytherin in Gryffindor Tower. "It seems that’s solved, then," he said, glancing around at the others.

The look Hermione gave Draco promised that she’d be revisiting that topic with him at a later time. "So, can you tell us anything we haven’t heard through the Order? About Voldemort, I mean."

Draco hated to do this but he had no choice, not with Harry’s life at stake. "Nothing. Apparently Christmas holidays were fairly quiet for once. Which means that Voldemort was probably planning and strategizing." _Not to mention making his army grow,_ Draco thought with a sick twist of his stomach at the way Crabbe and Goyle proudly displayed their new dark marks to him when they had arrived back at Hogwarts, just before they put a concealing charm on the ugly things.

Apparently all those who had received their marks had been ordered to conceal them and now that Draco knew the spell he could detect it on at least half of the Slytherin senior years. He also noticed almost another quarter of them looking longingly at their peers’ arms. It would seem that almost all of the Slytherin senior year was about to go over, not to mention some Ravenclaws and a few Hufflepuffs. "It’s not going to be long now," Harry said with a certainty that had the others looking at him strangely. "I mean," he backpedaled quickly, "it can’t be."

Draco swore under his breath then looked at the others. "He thinks he’s going to die. He’s got it into his head that, he had a fucking vision or something and I can’t talk him out of being a bloody noble hero and he won’t tell me what the fuck he really knows and... FUCK IT!" Draco snarled, wheeling and slamming out of the classroom, furious and pissed off and more terrified than he had ever been in his life, including those few times his father had presented him to Lord Voldemort in person.

"Draco!" Harry shouted wincing at the shattering of the careful wards Malfoy had raised earlier. Turning, he looked back at Ron and Hermione.

"What do you know, Harry?" Hermione said slowly.

"Yeah, if there’s something going on mate, you should tell us. You know bloody well that we work better as a team than solo. We’ve got one hell of a track record to back that up. No going ruining a good thing now," Ron advised. "Besides if you don’t tell us I’ll sit on you and use the bag of tricks Fred and George gave me until you talk."

"All right, go get... No, let me go get Draco and I’ll explain." Without waiting for a reply, Harry was out the door and down the hallway, hoping to catch up to the other boy before he got too far.

Spying a dark robe vanishing around a corner up ahead, Harry broke into a run, finally catching up with Draco just before he got to the main corridor. "Come back," he said quietly. "Please?"

Draco stopped and then turned slowly, his face composed and solemn his eyes, carefully blank. "Of course," he replied, "you know I’d never say no to you, Harry." And he wouldn’t. Even if Harry were to tell him to off himself he’d probably do that too. "Go on ahead, I’ll follow shortly. It’s better not to take too many chances of being seen."

Harry nodded, knowing that Draco was right, but hating the icy look in his eyes. "All right." Stopping himself before he could reach out to stroke the blond’s cheek, Harry stepped back, meeting Draco’s eyes with a look he hoped spoke for him before turning and going back to McGonagall’s classroom.

"I’m the world’s biggest idiot," Draco sighed after watching Harry walk away. His tiny dragon decided at that moment to clamber out of Draco’s pocket and, taking to the air, landed on the blond Slytherin’s shoulder, puffing out a little snort of smoke. "Yes, I know, I’m hopeless but can you blame me? I mean look at him," Draco smiled, remembering the rather pleasant view of Harry’s departing arse. "And it feels better than it looks, believe me!"

After letting enough time pass and watching the corridors carefully, Draco slipped back into McGonagall’s classroom and re-warded it. Slumping into one of the student’s desks, he looked at Harry. "Well, you were going to explain?"

"Yeah. Just don’t mention this to Dumbledore or Remus or anyone, all right?" he asked, looking around at the others. "They’ve got enough on their hands as it is." Unspoken were the words, ‘as do you’.

Pulling his wand from his robe, Harry stared at it for a long moment before continuing. "No matter what we all think of Professor Trelawney, she is a real Seer, at least in regards to Voldemort and me. At the beginning of the school year, she went into a trance while I was taking my first exam with her, and this is what she said."

Murmuring the repetition charm under his breath, Harry watched as a thin swirl of smoke curled out from the end of his wand and the classroom filled with the Divination teacher’s voice.

"When day and night combine as one Serpent’s heir and Lion’s son Shall meet as one in combat dire The world in balance o’er the pyre

For light to conquer, the son must die Reveal the truth amidst the lie Remake the past or all’s undone First one, then two, and then finally none"

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, his hands shaking. "C’mon, mate, you don’t really believe it, do you?"

Draco, if anything, went paler than he already was. "So we’re just to give up, is that it? Just because some crackpot old woman who’s more squib than witch gets a small burst of magic and predicts a load of rubbish. It’s a bunch of words. I mean for fuck’s sake _I_ could technically be considered the serpent’s heir if you consider I’m my father’s successor and my father was Voldemort’s right hand, _his_ heir. Give me a break, Potter. It’s, I refuse to believe it. That’s all there is too it!"

"Draco’s right, Harry," Hermione out it. "Trelawney is a crackpot, we all know it. She could have been talking about anyone and anything. She’s always predicting your death, you’ve said so yourself."

Harry nodded; having known this was how they were going to react. "I’m not going to argue about it," he said calmly. "Though there is another bit of information amidst all the ‘rubbish’ if you listen closely. ‘When day and night combine as one’ sounds like an eclipse to me. Want to hazard a guess on when the next one is?" Draco paled as he did a quick mental calculation but said nothing. All it meant was that he had until the end of the month to find a way to either follow Harry or...

Or go over to Voldemort and be there when Harry arrived.

"Still so skeptical now?" Harry asked, looking around at the others, his eyebrows raised.

Draco looked at the Gryffindor and shook his head. "But the interpretation is still open ended, and so is the future. I, personally, don’t believe in fate. We make our own, Potter. We are more than just mere muggles, we’re wizards and you’ve got the makings to be by far the strongest of all of us. If you go into any battle with a self-defeatist attitude you will lose. You decide your own destiny, not some crackpot squib high on her own special blend of incense, and Voldemort sure as hell shouldn’t get a say in it either.

"But then what should I expect from a bloody Gryffindor. You lot rush in where even the heavenly host fear to tread, so sure of your courage and your high and bloody mighty ideals. You never think, you never plan; you never explore other methods of achieving your ends. It’s a wonder any of you made it this far, let alone those Gryf’s who go on to die of ripe old age. You’re cracked, the lot of you!"

Now it was Harry’s turn to vent. "This is why I wasn’t telling anyone, especially you. I’m not going into things planning on losing, I’m going in planning on killing Voldemort and making sure he stays dead. By whatever means necessary. If that’s to much for all of you to take, I don’t need the help!"

Feeling a sense of déjà vu, though this time he was the one slamming out the door instead of the one watching, Harry stalked from the room, barreling through the halls, ignoring other students as he headed for the broom shed, wanting only to find his Firebolt and fly as far away from this mess as possible.

"Way to go, Malfoy, that was bloody brilliant," Ron growled, bolting after his friend to try and talk some sense into him. Draco, on the other hand, sat very quietly and very still, his face ashen. "How do you help someone who is intent upon dying, Hermione? How can I stop him from killing himself when he’s determined that this is the only answer, the only way? I’m fighting a losing battle and I’m going to... oh bugger, I’m going to lose him!"

Moving to the tall Slytherin’s side, Hermione hugged him, trying to lend comfort though she needed some herself at that time as well. "No you aren’t. No _we_ aren’t. We just have to find some way around this is all. You keep saying you’re smarter then I am, Malfoy; now its time to prove it."

~*~*~

Hearing the door to the broom shed open, Harry looked up, glaring at the interloper. "What?" he snapped not caring that it was Ron who’d followed him.

"Oi, no need to impersonate Fluffy, you know, I like my head just where it is," Ron replied in a lame attempt at a joke. When Harry didn’t respond he leaned against the door for a few minutes, just watching him.

"So you and Malfoy, hunh? You sure it’s not some sort of a spell?"

"Don’t ask me that again, Ron," Harry growled, his hand tightening around his broomstick.

"Hey, I’m just looking out for my best mate. And even you have to admit, Har, after six years of hating each other’s guts it’s a bit of a shock to the system. You... do you love him?"

Harry’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned against the wall behind him, losing much of his aggressive stance. "I do. The whole thing’s bollocks, but I do, even when I want to throttle him."

"Must make for some right kinky sex then," Ron remarked before realizing what he’d said and clamped his hands over his mouth. "I did not just suggest that you and he had... ewwwww!"

Try as he might, Harry wasn’t able to stay angry, and he clenched his jaws together, trying to stifle the snickers that threatened to leak from between his lips. "You’re a sod, Weasley," he finally managed to get out through his laughter. "A right bloody sod."

"Ha! Made you laugh, and you love me anyway, mate, so don’t try and deny it," Ron crowed before sobering. "And speaking of love, you’ve never run out on the people you love before, no matter how tough it got. Are you sure you want to start now?

"I mean I know he’s an arrogant prick with attitude to spare, but even I could see, and it really irks me to have to admit this, that he was right devastated when you said what you did. You running away ain’t gonna make it any easier on us, on him. If anything it’ll just leave some nasty guilt in its wake too.

"You’ve never been one to give up, Har, even when the world’s been against you. You got on your high horse a couple of times, and were one hell of a snot at the beginning of fifth year, but you’ve never backed down from a fight and have never given in the way I see you doing now. I’d say that if anything you have all the more reason to fight and to keep going.

"He... gawd, if you tell ‘mione or anyone else I ever uttered these words I’ll have to hurt you, but it was bloody obvious to even someone in glasses," Ron looked pointedly at Harry’s spectacles, "the snarky git loves you."

"I’m not backing down and I’m not giving up, why do you all keep telling me that I am?" Harry asked wearily. "I’m going to do whatever it takes to end this and if that means certain things have to happen, so be it. I don’t want to die, especially not now. Fuck! I want to live to be a hundred if only so I can see yours and Hermione’s grandkids and torture Malfoy about his wrinkles. But if I can’t...

"If I can’t, I’ve got to get to a place where I can accept that."

"Fair enough mate, but as Hermione always says, don’t count your kneazles until they’re hatched, okay? There might be a way out of this yet and now you’ve got two of the brainiest people in school working on a solution."

Harry quirked a small grin at that. "True, but what are Draco and Hermione going to do while we solve this?"

"Run errands for us?" Ron laughed. "C’mon, it’s almost dinner time and I’m starving. All these shocks to the system have given me an appetite, and it’s bangers and mash night!"


	11. Chapter 11

Getting into Slytherin was easier this time, though the mood in the dungeon had changed since Harry’s last visit. While before, the feeling had been of superiority and a hint of malice, the common room now felt... dirty was the only way he could describe it.

Shuddering, he eased through the open space and up the stairs, praying that Draco hadn’t changed his password since his visit here in the fall. A quick glance around showed the hallway to be empty, and he whispered ‘patronus’, slipping through the now unlocked door and into the room.

Draco stirred and woke as a whisper of breeze rushed over his naked body. Looking up and realizing that he couldn’t see a thing but that the door had been opened and then shut, he sighed and then whispered. "Accio wand." A few murmured incantations later he looked towards the door again. "Make sure you lock it before you come to bed, Harry," he said with absolute certainty before closing his eyes and snuggling into his pillow again.

Dropping his cloak, then his clothes on the floor, Harry silently climbed into bed beside Draco, taking the blond into his arms as if afraid of rebuff. "I’m sorry," he said finally, resting his forehead against Draco’s hair. "If it helps, Hermione, and even Ron read me the riot act."

"Nothing to apologize for," Draco replied as he rolled over and curled into Harry’s chest, breathing in the woodsy smell that was simply ‘Harry’ to him. "You had every right to be upset with me, should have kept my opinions to myself."

Tightening his arms around Draco’s body, Harry held on as if for dear life. "Never going to happen," he said, trying to tease, "you’re a Malfoy."

"Which means I have perfect manners to go along with everything else," Draco managed to get out with a small smile. "Haven’t you figured it out yet, Potter? Absolutely everything about me is perfect."

Moving in closer, clinging tighter, Draco felt the first salt trickle of tears he could no longer hold back. It just figured. When he finally found some sort of meaning in his life, someone to live for, and that someone was hell-bent on getting himself killed. "Ever the Malfoy, so that even when I mess up, I mess up perfectly," he whispered.

Harry closed his eyes, fighting the tightening of his throat. "Who says you’re messing anything up?" he whispered. "I’d say you’re doing things just right." He kissed the top of Draco’s head, and then tilted his face back to kiss his lips. "I’ve got you and Hermione figuring things out and Ron kicking my arse when I need it, what more do I need?"

"Nothing," Draco agreed with a watery smile. "You’ve got faith and courage enough for twenty Gryffindor’s so it will all work out in the end." Swallowing his tears and the pain in his heart, he brushed the messy black hair out of his lover’s eyes. "So did Ron make any girlie shrieks when you told him you were coming down here? Did he faint away at the thought of us ‘doing the deed’?"

"He mumbled something about not wanting any details," Harry answered, breathing a sigh of relief that Draco seemed to have forgiven him yet again. "And, as someone wise once told me, faith and courage are all well and good, but you need cunning and a good plan as well." He leaned into Draco’s touch, and then turned his head to kiss the blond’s palm.

"Personally I’d consider that fellow an idiot, but that’s just me," Draco replied with a wry tilt of his lips. "A bloody Gryffindor probably said it."

Tilting Harry’s head so that it was on level with his own, Draco pressed a light kiss on his lover’s lips. "Just so it’s understood, you never have to ask for forgiveness because I will always give it. If there comes a time I can’t, believe me, you’ll know about it," he murmured dryly. "I really am too good for you, you know. But hearts have a way of deciding things that have nothing to do with logic or common sense so I guess you’d better just thank your lucky stars that you’ve been given the gift of me."

"It was the amazing modesty that did me in," Harry replied wryly, rolling them both over so that he was looking down at Draco. "That and the amazing good looks." At that he kissed Malfoy again, slowly, tenderly as if trying to memorize every bit of his lips and mouth.

Draco wound his arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him back with every bit of passion and love in his being. He poured everything he was into the kiss, praying that Harry would understand. When they at last broke apart Draco was panting lightly and his eyes were slightly glazed.

Tracing his fingers over Harry’s lips, his own quirked slightly. "Sorry for making your cauldron blow up today and getting you detention. Oh, and for the squealing sausages this morning at breakfast. Crabbe and Goyle thought that one was a hoot; Pansy caught me mooning over you this afternoon so I had to cover up by pretending I was plotting a prank."

"Snape was happy because it gave him plenty of time to fill my ear with dire warnings as to what he was going to do to me if I hurt you," Harry admitted, kissing his way over ‘Draco’s jaw to his throat. "And I think my exploding egg hex was a nice rebuttal for the sausages."

"Yeah, and it was even better when it missed me and hit Zabini instead," Draco chuckled. "As for Uncle Sev, he’s just being protective, that’s all. He’s never married and has no children of his own so I guess I’m it, in a way. He really does mean well."

Examining Harry’s face carefully, Draco came to a decision. "Make love to me tonight, Harry." Harry swallowed hard, then licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. They’d had little enough time together as it was, and whenever they’d managed to slip away for some privacy, Draco had been the one to take him, but this... "Yes," he whispered, pushing up on one elbow to plunder Draco’s mouth again, shaking inside with what he’d just been offered and the incredible need and tenderness it inspired in him.

Draco finally chuckled when Potter moved back after long minutes of snogging. "I get the impression you like that idea," he teased. "You do remember how to do it, don’t you, or will I have to walk you through with step by step instructions?"

"Don’t make me use a silencing charm on you," Harry shot back, nipping at Draco’s lower lip even as he arched down into the strong body beneath his.

"Oooh baby, I love it when you get all take charge and dommy on me!" Draco declared, sniggering even as he writhed underneath the other boy. "And be honest, Harry, you wouldn’t have me any other way... not that you’ve had me at all yet. My goodness, you do take your time, don’t you!"

Only the memory of Draco’s brief description of the first time he’d been taken kept Harry from grabbing the blond’s wrists and pinning them over his head. "Hmm, and here I thought you looked down on Gryffindors for just rushing into things without any finesse," he chuckled, sliding lower and laving at a peaked nipple, wanting to hear Draco moan.

"Well there are times when those are good qualities to have," Draco gasped, arching up into the touch. "Damn that’s one very impressive tongue you have there, Potter. All that hissing in parseltongue seems to have paid off in spades. My but I’m a lucky boy!" Wrapping his legs around Harry’s hips, Draco thrust up into the hard seeker’s body above his, egging them both on.

Malfoy could still talk which meant he wasn’t anywhere needy enough, so Harry ignored the comment, moving across Draco’s chest to his other nipple, attending to it until it was as reddened and peaked as its twin. Satisfied with his progress so far, he began to work his way lower, tracing the ridges of Draco’s ribs with his tongue and fingers, then the tight planes of his abdomen, biting at the soft skin around the blond’s belly button.

Moaning and arching into the touch, Draco let his eyes fall closed while he reveled in the sensations crawling through him. His hands left Harry’s neck and reached up to hold onto the headboard in an attempt to anchor himself to the bed when he was positive he was floating away. "Damn, you a...are a quick study, aren’t you?" he whimpered quietly, his body arching off the bed at the nip to his navel.

Harry lifted his head and smiled evilly. "Had a good teacher, but then Ravenclaws are good at those things."

"Wha-at?" Draco’s eyes shot open and he tried to explode upwards only to find himself pinned beneath a rather smug looking Gryffindor. "Oh, you are so going to pay for that, Potter, and pay and pay and pay!" he snarled down at the innocent looking teen.

"I’ll look forward to it," Harry laughed, sinking back downward, avoiding Draco’s heavy erection to nibble at the inside of his thighs.

"Pot-ter!" Draco whined, trying to wriggle his hips and make Harry go back to the part he’d missed. "When the bloody hell did you turn into a Slytherin? That’s a downright evil thing to do to a fellow. I don’t recall every doing anything so sneaky to you!"

"Mmm, probably not, but then I’m trying to think outside the box, if you’ll pardon the muggle expression."

"What the devil are you talking about?" Draco sputtered. "I don’t have a box; I’m male in case it hasn’t escaped your attention!"

Harry tried to contain himself, but Draco’s indignant tone had him curling up in a ball and laughing so hard he finally rolled off the bed.

Growling, Draco reached for his wand and placed a cooling hex on his stone floor, making Harry yelp and scramble back onto the bed. "Bloody prat, who said you could come back into my bed after that, eh? I ought to hex you into next week or... or transfigure you into a woman! That’s what I’ll do! See if you can get a rise out of me then!"

"You try it and you won’t have anything left to get a rise with!" Harry exclaimed, flipping Draco over to his stomach and biting him on the arse.

"You and what army, Pot...oh!" Draco’s whole back bowed and his hips arched up as proverbial lightening shot through his body. "Bloody hell, do that again!"

Harry blinked in surprise, but did as Draco demanded; leaving a double half-moon imprint on the Slytherin’s other arse cheek.

Moaning, Draco bit down on the pillow, his cock leaping in response to the stimulus. "Oh bollocks, that’s bloody brilliant! He moaned, wriggling his hips enticingly. "Don’t stop, don’t bloody well stop! Do something else, please!"

Still shocked by Draco’s extreme reaction to the bit of pain, Harry looked around frantically, and finally muttered a frustrated ‘accio lubricatum’ when he couldn’t find what he was looking for.

Leaning in to nip a pathway up Draco’s spine, he broke the seal on the vial and poured a bit of the liquid over his hand, coating the finger he then traced around the tight entrance to Draco’s body.

Moaning continuously, Draco leaned backwards, letting Harry’s finger slide inside him. He had the feeling that Harry was trying to be gentle with him and dark gods above he loved him for it but that wasn’t what he wanted or needed right now. He needed not to think about what was happening, to only feel and experience. Next time, the next time Harry took him it could be slow and beautiful and romantic, a celebration of life and not this... no he wouldn’t, couldn’t think of it now.

"Need you in me, Merlyn and Morgana, please Harry!" he begged roughly.

"Draco," Harry started before the incredible feeling of the other boy flexing around his fingers blew all rational thought from his head. Determined that there wasn’t going to be any pain, he added a second finger, murmuring nonsense into Draco’s ear to keep him from going wild beneath him.

Finally, when they were both sobbing for breath, Harry stroked a layer of the slick liquid over his erection and set it against Draco’s body, holding the blond’s hips tightly as he pressed inward, ready to stop at the first sign of discomfort.

"Harry," Draco moaned, trying to press back into his lover but finding he couldn’t due to the strength of the Gryffindor’s grip on his hips. "Oh Merlyn, don’t stop, please, whatever you do don’t... Stop!" he whined, canting his hips and lowering his chest to the bed.

Draco’s hands scrabbled at the sheets for purchase and he finally found and grasped on to the bottom of the headboard, needing something to hold on to. His breath came out in little mewling pants and his skin flushed from pale ivory to light rose as arousal peaked, making his cock leak and slap against his stomach.

"Jesus, Draco," Harry panted, amazed by the changes that had overcome his normally in control lover. Taking Malfoy at his word, he began to move, thrusting forward into his incredibly tight heat and pulling back, repeating the cycle over and over until he was lost in it, only knowing how wonderful it felt.

Moaning constantly, Draco began to push back into the thrusts; helping Harry anyway he could to increase the sensations flowing through both of them. Letting go of the headboard with one hand, Draco snaked it between his belly and the bed and began to stroke his cock in time with Harry’s thrusts. And just to make things more interesting he began to bear down and squeeze Harry tightly with his body, eliciting gasps from both of them.

"Harry," he moaned quietly, "oh Hecate, Harry, I... I..." he couldn’t force the words past the constriction in his throat, afraid that if he were to utter them it would be like last time, that his love was a curse that would bring his lover down.

"I know," Harry whispered, lowering his head to rest between Draco’s shoulder blades as he continued moving, each clench of Draco’s body around him sweet torture. "I love you too."

Biting his lip to keep from crying out as those words did such incredible things to him, Draco felt a part of himself begin to heal inside and thought, rather inanely, that perhaps the muggles were right, perhaps love could conquer all.

"Bloody Gryffindor" he sniffled, "always has to get in the last word." Turning his head to the side, Draco smiled up at Harry, showing he was only teasing but just as he did Harry stabbed against his prostate at just the perfect angle and Draco let out a wail that would do a banshee justice as his body clenched and spasmed around the almost perfect angle at which he was being fucked.

"Damn ri - oh fuck, you’re bloody beautiful," Harry rasped, catching Draco’s face with one hand and tilting his head back a bit more so that he could ravage the blond’s mouth the same way he was taking his body.

"Yours," Draco breathed, allowing himself to be pulled upwards so he was writhing, impaled upon Harry’s lap like a houri. Wrapping his arms behind Harry’s head and cushioning his own head on the Gryffindor’s shoulder, Draco made good use of Quidditch hardened muscles to ride his lover, his unattended cock slapping against his stomach and leaving wet trails of precum as he bounced and rode and ground against the other teen.

Harry muffled his own moans against Draco’s throat, raising another passion mark to the surface of his fair skin. It was almost a ritual between the two of them: whenever they managed some private time together, one or both came away marked.

Keeping Draco pulled tight against his chest with one arm, Harry slid the other hand lower, finding and circling Draco’s shaft, knowing only the he had to feel Draco come before he did, if just this once.

"Harry, Merlyn, Harry!" Draco moaned; his head rolling from side to side as he was marked and claimed and pleased and teased all at the same time. It was so good, too good, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer.

A few more strokes of Harry’s hands had him mewling with need, his hips thrusting up faster, coming down harder. A few more after that and a sharp tug on his nipple from Harry’s other hand was all it took to have Draco wailing, body shaking and clenching around Harry’s as his cock sent rope after rope of semen shooting over his stomach and Harry’s hand.

Feeling Draco convulse around him was heaven, and Harry groaned, taken out of himself by the pure knowledge that he was the one who’d wrung these reactions from the Slytherin, that it was his desire that had made Draco come screaming his name.

That tiny incentive tipped Harry over as well, and he came, his cries of completion muffled against Draco’s neck as he arched upward, filling the other youth with his seed.

Sagging backwards, thankful that Harry was there to support and hold him, Draco slowly came down from his orgasmic high, his body still quivering and enervated. Finding his voice at last he managed to get out a dry throated tease. "Are you sure you’ve never done this before, Potter? Then again you’re rather good at mounting things, straddling and gripping them and riding them into exhaustion."

"More of that amazing Slytherin wit," Harry sighed before kissing the side of Draco’s neck. "Stop before you kill me with laughter."

"And here I was hoping to make you expire from being sexed out, damn; I’m going to have to work on that then. Can’t have it said that the Slytherin Sex God killed his lover with laugher, it would be bad for my reputation."

"Bloody fool," Harry muttered, tumbling them both back to the bed and muttering a curse when the move made him slip out of Draco’s body. "Slytherin Sex God, my arse. More like Slytherin Schmuck."

"A what?" Draco asked, rolling over to lie on top of Harry, a silvery eyebrow quirking. "Is that some sort of muggle pet?"

"Sort of," Harry laughed. "Ask Hermione next time you see her, she’ll explain."

"You’re obfuscating, Potter," Draco remarked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "That usually means what you said was not very complimentary and you’re afraid of what I might do to you so you put me off by having me wait and ask ‘mione while you run for cover with your Gryffindor tail between your legs."

Knowing he was caught out, Harry shrugged. "True, but I’m still not telling you - and last I saw, it was my ‘leg’ between your tail."

Snatching up a pillow, Draco thwapped Harry over the head as hard as he could. "That was _bad_ , Potter! Very very bad!" he growled before letting the pillow fall to the floor and settling back down. "Say something like that and I’m going to throw a lock jaw hex at you, then we’ll see how much you can do with that," Draco sniped, " _potty_ mouth of yours!"

Reaching up to rub his head and adjust his glasses, Harry grinned. "I have it on good authority you love what I do with this mouth of mine." To emphasize the point, he murmured a few phrases in parseltongue.

Draco shivered minutely as the sound washed over him. "Like I said, you have a potty mouth," Draco murmured, sliding up Harry’s body to seal his lips over the Gryffindor’s, shutting him up in a way that was both satisfying and effective.

When he at last lifted his head, Harry’s eyes were heavy and slumberous and his plump lips a perfect ruby red. "That’s better," he murmured, plucking Harry’s glasses off and setting them on his nightstand next to the bed. Setting the alarm for ‘obscenely early so Harry can sneak out’ he whispered "Nox," and plunged the room into darkness. "Go to sleep you sodding Gryffindor, we’ve got double potions first thing in the morning."

~*~*~

"All right, what’s this special project you’re working on? Spill it!" Hermione hissed after tracking Draco down in the far recesses of the library. She’d made certain to ward the small corner they were in before speaking, and anyone who looked down this way would only see an empty desk.

"It doesn’t matter now, ‘mione," Draco sighed tiredly. "I thought I would have more time but after his announcement yesterday..." the blond Slytherin shook his head. "I was, am, taking animagus lessons from McGonagall. I figured if I knew how to change, I could follow Harry when he decided to go and play St. Potter but I’ve got less than a month, there’s no way I can learn all I need to. I need to come up with another plan. You wouldn’t happen to have any brilliant ideas, would you?"

"Other then taking his wand away and tying him to the bed? I’m afraid not," she sighed. "What about that tracking potion? I know the original one isn’t effective any longer, but if we could get him to drink another, at least we’d know where he was."

"We’d need a way to make it stronger, make it tasteless and odorless and make him drink it. Guess this means we’d better get to work. And maybe ask Uncle Sev for help because I’m running out of ideas, Hermione, and I’m starting to get nervous," Draco admitted, actually he was terrified but that was something he couldn’t admit to, not yet, not until there was no other choice.

She nodded, absently tucking her curly hair behind one ear as it fell into her face. "I suppose knowing when this is supposed to happen is a good thing, but now all I can see is a huge clock ticking away over our heads."

"Rather like a doomsday clock, isn’t it?" Draco replied morosely. "I... it’s all coming apart at the seams, Hermione, and there doesn’t seem to be anything I can do to stop it. It’s just so damned unfair. All my life my family’s position, their power and their money has moved mountains, made things happen and has made problems disappear. But now? I’ve never been in this situation before, where who I am and what I have or what I can do doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I don’t know what to do."

"What I’ve found," she said, perching on the side of the table and squeezing Draco’s shoulder gently, "is that when you don’t know where to start, start small. Voldemort is raising an army and surely there are wizards than are in the Order who side against him. For example, I can’t believe _everyone_ in Slytherin is clamoring to take the dark mark."

A sick expression crossed Draco’s features and Hermione frowned. "Surely not everyone?"

"Maybe a handful that aren’t and of that handful its split down the middle, those who support Voldemort but don’t want to side with him and those that are hedging their bets waiting to see who the victor will be. At least in the seventh years. Any younger and it doesn’t matter, they don’t have the power or the skills yet to be of any use. I honestly think I’m the only one who opposes Voldemort and even I don’t do it openly. To do so would be to sign my own death sentence, Hermione. Even if I weren’t doing what I am, I wouldn’t have declared myself a follower of Dumbledore until after graduation and then I would have had to seek sanctuary in Hogwarts, just as Uncle Sev did."

She nodded sadly. "I understand that, Draco. I’m - I suppose I’m glad that it won’t come to that, or to you having to profess loyalty to him to remain safe."

Sitting straighter and suddenly business-like in her manner, Hermione slid off the table. "All right then. We can go talk to Professor Snape and start on a list of those we think can be trusted to support the light - that’s something Ron can help with while we work on the potion. We need to tell Dumbledore about this, though. I really doubt Harry’s told him about that prophecy."

"No, and he won’t. The only reason he told any of us is because we forced him to. He’s trying to be a martyr, trying to keep the people he... he... loves safe," Draco managed to get out. "And we need to set up a network of our own spies to keep an eye on him, let us know what he’s up to. He’s going to try and slip out on us, ‘mione. I know it. We need to stay one step ahead of him or, I don’t want to think about what will happen."

"I wish I could say you were wrong, but you aren’t, stupid bugger that he is," she grumbled. "I’ll talk to Dobby, he can have the house elves keep an eye on Harry, and, oh we can key some charms to him and leave them around so we’ll know if he trips them..."

"We need to think like he does, and we need to know all the ways he has in and out of Hogwarts. Those are what we have to charm. We need to assume that he’s not going to just walk out the front door, which would be too obvious. We need to assume he’s going to use the bloody cloak of his. Now, what else can we do other than research?" Draco raked his hand through his hair.

"He’s making me mental, Hermione, he really is. The stupid prat seems determined to die, and I know he’s doing it to save the world, but dammit, the world had no right appointing a snot nosed Gryffindor teen its savior. This is stuff adults should be handling instead of cowering behind a boy who hasn’t even passed his ‘N.E.W.T’s.

"We’re going to need to alert the aurors and the ministry, but Fudge is an arse, and he’s so afraid of the dark lord that he wets his pants if you even say ‘Voldemort’ around him. Is there anyone in the Order of the Phoenix or in Dumbledore’s Army that you trust enough to tell all this too?"

"Dumbledore. McGonagall... Lupin. He might be best, he’s had experience dealing with people like Harry from what I’ve heard about their days here." Hearing the barely concealed anguish in Draco’s tone, Hermione pulled him to his feet, and then gave him a hug. "We’ll save him, Malfoy, if not for his own good, then for the rest of the world’s because I don’t want to think of what you’d do if you lost him."

"Trust me, its better that you don’t," Draco replied darkly. He already knew exactly what he’d do. If he couldn’t have Harry in the living world he’d find his way to him in the afterworld. It was as simple as that. "So, we’ve got a plan, we’d best get moving on it, then. I’ll leave Dobby, Lupin and McGonagall to you while I tackle Snape and Dumbledore. Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," she agreed. "I’ll set Ron to watching Harry for now. They’ve got the game with Ravenclaw coming up so that should keep them busy for the next fortnight."

"And there’s a Hogsmeade weekend coming up, as well as ‘N.E.W.T’s to review for and I’m pretty sure we can get Dumbledore to come up with something and Snape will be more than happy to hand out detentions... now all we have to do is find a solution and we’ll be set."


	12. Chapter 12

Draco rubbed his eyes tiredly and then finished copying down the last verse from the book lay out before him. Done.

Closing the dark book, Draco sent it winging back to its place with a quiet show of wandless magic. Even though the bastard was dead his ghost still seemed to linger in this place of dark magic. Lucius’s private library, the one that the ministry of magic did _not_ find when they raided Malfoy Manor after word got out that it’s owner was dead. Draco’s upper lip curled into a sneer resembling very much his father’s. Did those fools at the Ministry think that Lucius would leave books and objects of the darkest arts just lying around to be casually discovered? His father had been many things in his life but a fool was not one of them.

No, Lucius Malfoy’s library was buried deep within the bowels of the earth a good distance from Malfoy Manor. One had to first gain access to a heavily warded and hidden trap door in the Malfoy greenhouse, of all places. After that you had to take a winding staircase full of hidden traps and nasty surprises down to the secret dungeons and from there another heavily warded and hidden corridor full of even more traps and even nastier surprises and then after all of that, you needed to know the right combination of a muggle combination lock.

Not your average combination lock mind you, the kind they used to secure military bases with electronic numbers that had to be punched in on a keyboard which also analyzed your DNA. Ingenious, really, the man who hated muggles using muggle technology. No one would have been prepared for it. No one but another Malfoy, specifically the Malfoy heir.

Draco still wasn’t sure what had prompted Dumbledore to give in to his request to spend the weekend at Malfoy Manor, but then again who knew what went on in that cagey old bird’s mind. He had asked because he was growing desperate. Two weeks until the eclipse and still he, Hermione and even Snape had come up empty handed. Draco was panicking. He couldn’t lose Harry, not now, not after just finding him. But a panicked Draco Malfoy was a dangerous one. And an inspired one. He had his father’s secret library to fall back on when all else failed and, taking a leap of faith, Draco had asked to return to Malfoy Manor, though he kept the purpose of his visit to himself. The young Slytherin doubted very much that Dumbledore would approve of Draco researching dark magic.

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, which meant that Harry would be preoccupied with Ron and Hermione, something Draco was grateful for. He wanted his lover to spend time with his friends in case, well in case they couldn’t save him. But Draco intended to, by hook or by crook, or in this case by dark magic.

He had found a spell at last, in one of the more ancient books and it was a form of the darkest magic. It employed not only a form of Imperius but it was blood magic, and darker still, soul magic. Of course the way Draco planned on using it, if it became necessary, was rather unique. Instead of the spell affecting another _he_ would be the one to be bound to the magic, and through that magic he could bring Harry back... at a price, but it was a price he was willing to pay.

Now all he had to do was make a few more arrangements, namely with Hermione, Dumbledore and Snape. This was one time Harry wouldn’t know a thing until it was too late. Draco looked down at the unblemished skin of his inner forearms and grimaced. He had a feeling that one of them wouldn’t be quite so pure before long. But if that’s what it took to save St. Potter, so be it.

Drying the parchment, Draco rolled it carefully and placed it in his book bag. "Lumos" he spoke softly, blowing out the candles in the room. Using his now lit wand as a guide, Draco slipped through the room and out of it, locking it behind him again. He might be on the side of the light but, like his eyes, Draco Malfoy saw things in gray. No sense destroying something that could prove valuable, just as it had today. Now to get back home to Hogwarts.

~*~*~

Glad that the weather had turned at last, Harry lounged on the stands by the quidditch pitch, watching the sky turn dark overhead. He was at peace for once, both with himself and with the fates, and for that he was glad.

Yawning, he crossed his arms under his head, looking up at the darkening sky and wondering if, when Draco found what he’d left for him on his bed, he’d come looking for him.

Having Charlie Weasley track down the gift hadn’t been easy, and it had cost dearly, but it was worth every galleon, sickle, and knut, of that he was certain. He figured Draco could pass it off as a gift from his mother or something he bought himself, as it was definitely in the style the Slytherin prince lived.

Harry, on the other hand, had simply thought the occamy was the perfect familiar for his lover. Once it hatched, the winged, silver feathered serpent would be as beautiful as Draco.

"You got me a snake, how very Slytherin of you, Potter," Draco chuckled, sitting down next to the Gryffindor. "Thank you," he said simply, sliding his hand into Harry’s.

It was dinner time and the rest of Slytherin house was in the great hall, he’d gotten out of it by saying he had eaten at home when he actually hadn’t. He figured he could tickle the pear and raid the kitchens later on but right now he wanted to spend time with Harry. Every moment was becoming more precious than the last as time began to slip away from him.

"I thought she would go with your hair," Harry smirked, shifting to lay his head in Draco’s lap. "And the size will match your ego when she’s grown."

"How in the name of Grindelwald did you find an occamy, Potter?" Draco asked, bemused, running his fingers through his lover’s hair. "They’re as rare as they are expensive. I don’t deserve it."

Sighing, Harry relaxed and half-closed his eyes. "That’s my secret, Malfoy, and you won’t get it out of me, even if you torture me. Oh, and you do deserve it, if only because I love you. She should hatch in a week or so. Did you find the care instructions under the egg?"

"Yes I did, and thank you. It’s..." Draco choked, "it’s perfect." He only wished he’d be there to watch him or her hatch, but he already knew where he’d be a week from now. His mind was made up and he had already owled Hermione the instructions for the tracking potion he’d ingested as well as the letter meant for Harry.

"I, I love you, Harry James Potter," he whispered, wanting to say it one last time, just in case something went wrong. "You’re definitely one of a kind."

Harry slowly opened his eyes, looking vaguely troubled, but not giving voice to his concerns because hearing Draco say those words after so damn long was heaven.

"Must be why we’re together," he murmured, reaching up to pull Draco in for a kiss. "We both are."

"Now you’re beginning to sound like that crackpot Trelawney. Next you’ll be spouting on about how we’re fated to be together, that its destiny," Draco chuckled but didn’t resist the kiss. If anything he deepened it, wanting to taste his lover all over again. "Come to visit me tonight?" he whispered when they finally broke apart. "I missed you this weekend."

Rubbing his thumb over Draco’s cheek, Harry nodded. "I’ll let Ron know so he won’t come looking for me. Missed you too. Dennis Creevy got looped on butterbeer and went around begging Ginny for a kiss. It was hilarious."

He sobered, and ran his thumb over Draco’s lower lip. "I wish you could have seen it, I wish we could have seen it together."

"Next time, Harry, I promise. Next Hogsmeade weekend I don’t care if the entire school turns out to watch, I’m spending it with you. That’s a promise," Draco swore, leaning forward to press a soft kiss on Harry’s scar.

"I’ve finally decided what I want to do with my life, did I tell you?" Draco whispered hoarsely, leaning back to look up at the first stars as they twinkled to life in the sky before his gaze returned to his own personal star, to Harry. "I want to spend it with you."

Harry shuddered and turned his face to press it against Draco’s stomach, swallowing harshly to keep his emotions from exploding and overwhelming him. He’d promised not to bring up dying again and he wouldn’t, no matter what.

Looking up once again, he smiled. "What a coincidence, that’s what I want to do with mine too. Still need to see your knobby knees in those shorts you know."

"Not going to happen, Potter, so you’d best quit deluding yourself. Besides I’m still ahead, two forfeits to one. I’m still planning on us doing the nasty right on the Gryffindor common room couch."

Draco reached into the pocket of his school trousers and pulled out a small jeweler’s box then handed it to Harry. "It’s not dark magic, I promise, despite it being a Malfoy family heirloom. It, its part of the promise of what I want to do with my life. I want you to have it now, in case," Draco swallowed, the closest he’d ever come to admitting out loud that they might lose one another in a very short time.

Taking the box, Harry looked at it, then up at Draco before slowly sitting up. He wanted to say something - anything, but the words caught in his throat, and finally he gave up trying. Opening the lid, he stared down at the masculine ring nestled against black velvet: platinum with gold braiding on the edges, and emeralds, diamonds and rubies in the center.

Knowing that he was going to lose it soon, he gave a choked laugh. "Always have to outdo me on gifts, don’t you, Malfoy?" Tears made his eyes bright as he took the band from the box and slid it on the ring finger of his right hand where it would touch his wand when he used it.

"But of course, we Malfoys always give the _perfect_ gift," Draco chuckled roughly, pulling Harry close. "And there’s no way I could out do you on gifts. You gave me something no one has ever given me in my entire life, Harry James Potter. You gave me love, complete, selfless love, without borders or boundaries. That is beyond irreplaceable. As is my occamy."

Bending Draco’s head lower so they could share a kiss, Harry thought he tasted salt tears as their lips met, but couldn’t tell if they were his own or the other youth’s. "We Potter’s do our best," he whispered, hugging Draco close. "Now get back to your room so I can come have my snake hiss in your ear."

"If your ‘snake’ goes anywhere near my ear, Potter, you’ve obviously forgotten all our lessons," Draco chuckled, as Harry stood up and offered him a hand. "If you’re here chances are you haven’t eaten either. Go get your cloak while I raid the kitchen. I’ve a new password on the door just to be safe; it’s, its lovers. Now go on with you, I’ll meet you there as soon as I’ve pinched us some food."

~*~*~

Surprisingly, Harry found that Draco hadn’t made it back to Slytherin even in the time it took him to let Ron know of his whereabouts and to navigate the corridors to the dungeon. The redhead’s eyes had widened at the sight of the ring on Harry’s finger, but he kept quiet, something Harry was profoundly thankful for.

Impatient, but unable to get into Draco’s room because Pansy and Millicent were conversing at the end of the hall, he growled to himself, causing the toy snake Dumbledore had given him for Christmas to unwind from around his wrist and cling his arm to hiss a question.

Draco sauntered into the Slytherin common room; a covered tray floating behind him and pointedly ignored Zabini’s attempts to engage him in conversation. When Crabbe and Goyle came up to him, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand. "I spent the weekend going through my father’s personal effects, I’m not really in the mood for company, go keep Zabini busy, will you?" he asked exasperatedly.

Climbing the stairs he was met with the sight of Bulstrode and Parkinson. "Oi, get a room will you?" he shouted at them. "And bugger off, I want to get some rest."

"And just what put you in a mood, Draco?" Pansy hissed, put out at having her attempt at spying on him foiled so easily.

"You try going through your dead father’s effects and see what sort of a mood it puts you in. And no I don’t mean the trinkets he left for the ministry to find either. Now sod off or I’ll be putting some of my newly found knowledge to work, got it?" Draco’s eyes narrowed to menacing slits of ice and his voice lowered to a venomous hiss.

"And don’t think I’m not on to you, bitch. Go ahead, spy on me, you’ll find nothing. I’m as loyal to my lord as my father was and before long, I’ll be in my father’s place. You mark my words, before long another Malfoy will stand next to Voldemort and then we’ll see just how uppity you are!"

Draco watched with grim satisfaction, as both girls looked at him with something akin to terror in their eyes and scuttled away like little mice. "Bloody cows, I really should hex them, if only to make _me_ feel better," he murmured under his breath before removing the room-sealing spell and whispering the password to get in.

"I’m going to have to bloody well change my password every fucking day now," he growled in frustration. Taking out his wand he did a quick reminder spell in the air. ‘change password in the morning,’ and then, lowering the dinner tray, threw himself onto the bed and took out his occamy egg from it’s safely hidden nest under his bed.

"Hello, beauty, I can’t wait to meet you," he whispered reverently. "When I do I’ll tell you all about the boy who gave you to me and when he gets back he can introduce himself properly. He speaks parseltongue so I’m sure you’ll have a lot to chat about. Once you’re old enough, that is."

"I don’t know, aren’t you afraid that would corrupt her?" Harry asked, slipping out of his cloak and settling on the bed alongside Draco, smiling fondly, his heart clenching at what he’d heard.

"A Gryffindor corrupt something?" Draco gasped, placing a hand over his heart in exaggerated disbelief. "I’d imagine I’d see the sky fall on our heads before that came to pass!" Placing the egg back in its nest, Draco carefully levitated it over to a dark, out of the way corner of the room and added a warming spell around it before turning back to Harry.

Pulling the Gryffindor in his arms he double-checked the silencing spell and the wards before nuzzling his lover’s neck. "Did those nasty Slytherin cows keep you standing outside for very long?" he murmured.

"Mmm, don’t insult cows," Harry murmured. "They were wondering who you were seeing since you weren’t fucking Zabini any longer. The list they came up with was quite interesting and varied." He collapsed back onto the bed, pulling Draco over on top of him and running his hands up the blond’s back beneath his robes.

"I want you to take me tonight like this, Draco. I want to be able to see you this time."

"They’re just jealous because the only action they’re getting is from their wands," Draco smirked, leaning down to kiss Harry hungrily. "Damn good thing I had the house elves put a warming charm on our food, I have a feeling dinner is going to be rather late tonight," he purred as nimble fingers tugged at Harry’s house tie, pulling it off entirely and then setting to work on his shirt.

Buttons were quickly undone and the shirt tugged out of Harry’s pants and then tugged off, baring golden skin to Draco’s covetous eyes. "Morgana you are gorgeous," he whispered before lowering his head to take one of Harry’s nipples into his mouth.

"Only thing that matters is that you think so," Harry moaned, arching his back off the bed as he pulled at Draco’s clothing wanting the other youth as bare as he needed to be. There was so little time left, he wanted to find a way to climb into Draco’s soul and have his lover in his own so that they could draw strength from each other when they needed it most.

"Harry," Draco moaned, pressing tender kisses on every inch of flesh he could. His hands scrabbled to finish undressing the both of them and they trembled with need. _No time, no time_ his brain kept chanting over and over, his heart screaming at it to shut up, that tonight was going to last forever. Never before had Draco prayed for a miracle, but right now he was with every fiber of his being.

"Where’s a fucking time turner when you need one, eh?" he laughed, "that way we’d have the night last for eternity."

"We might run out of food." Harry’s laugh was perilously close to a sob, and he pushed all thought of everything except the present from his mind. It was so unfair, all of it, to finally find what he always wanted only to... No, not tonight.

They managed to get out of their clothes without losing contact, and Harry wrapped his arms and legs around Draco, pulling him close and kissing him again.

"But what a way to go, sated and sweaty and reeking of sex," Draco smirked. "Think of it this way, you’d be known as Harry Potter, the boy who shagged a Death Eater to death," the blond teased as he sucked a patch of Harry’s neck into his mouth, desperate to leave him marked again, to leave proof that he, Draco, had existed and had meant something, at least to someone.

"And you are gorgeous, Harry James Potter, don’t you dare think otherwise or I might have to beat you!" he growled, nipping at Harry’s Adam’s apple even as his hand wrapped around the Gryffindor’s cock, stroking it with firm, even strokes.

"Just like I’ll beat you to death if you call yourself a Death Eater again, Harry growled, his hips arching helplessly off the bed to press into Draco’s hand. Squirming, he managed to get a thigh between the blond’s thighs and rubbed against his lover’s shaft, loving the answering groan Draco gave.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Potter sir!" Draco moaned, not wanting to argue about it, especially knowing that very soon it would be true, he would be a Death Eater, in name if not in intent. Uncle Severus was right; love really did addle the Slytherin brain.

"Merlyn, you’re driving me crazy," he ground out, humping Harry’s leg desperately as his cock engorged, the both of them rubbing and writhing together on the bed, their arousal growing. "Enough," Draco barked at last, throwing himself up and off of Harry. "Much more of that and I’m gonna come before I get anywhere near that gorgeous Gryffindor arse of yours!"

Harry fisted a hand in Draco’s hair to kiss him until they both were panting. "Then get in me or I’ll just have to work on making you hard again," he rasped.

"Damn pushy bastard, aren’t you, Potter?" Draco laughed breathlessly, reaching into the nightstand and pulling out a vial of lubrication. "Horny bugger too, how’d I get so lucky to get you?"

Pouring some of the slick substance onto Harry’s stomach, Draco watched the raven haired boy suck in a quick breath as the cold liquid splashed into his navel. Sweeping his fingers through the oil, Draco smeared it on his prick and then, oiling his fingers up for a second time, grasped Harry’s legs and drew them up to his shoulders.

Sliding a finger into his lover, he began to slowly finger fuck Harry, watching raptly at the emotions that flitted across the Gryffindor’s face as he did so.

"Dra - Ah yes, there - So good," Harry whimpered, reaching for his own erection and stroking it with sensual abandon. "Need more, Draco. Need you."

"You’ve got me, Harry, I’m yours," he whispered, knocking Harry’s hand away and replacing it with his own even as he moved into position and slid into the hot depths of his lover’s body, his eyes boring into startlingly green ones.

The pleasure coursing through Harry’s body had his eyes sliding shut, but he opened them almost immediately, not wanting to miss a flicker of expression on Draco’s face.

In the half-light he looked wild, almost feral; a distinct contrast to the cool, cynical nature he showed the rest of Hogwarts. Harry slid his hands up Draco’s arms, to his shoulders, then up to his face, memorizing the aristocratic planes and the perfect jut of his nose, wanting to remember everything about this night.

"Apparently I’ve found my perfect match, Potter," Draco chuckled heatedly as he began to draw back out, his hand stroking Harry’s cock slowly. "Because you’re the most perfect lover I’ve ever had," he continued, carrying on the old teasing theme of Malfoy perfection even as his hips began to gradually pick up speed.

"I love you, Harry Potter, I’d brand it over my heart if I could, that Draco Malfoy loves Harry Potter forever." And he would. There would never be another; he’d found his mate and whether it was in this world or the next they’d be together forever.

Finding his voice, Harry caught Draco’s free hand and pressed it to his heart before moving his to the blond’s chest. "No need to brand it over my heart, it’s already etched in it," he whispered.

"Gryffindor’s were always overly romantic," Draco teased before demonstrating some supreme flexibility and bending to take the tip of Harry’s cock in his mouth while his hips thrust in and out of the raven-haired boy’s body.

"Sod off, Mal-foy..." Harry’s voice rose at least two octaves on the last syllable, and he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the blond. "You... while you’re... fuccckkk..."

Draco smirked around Harry’s cock and flicked his tongue back and forth across the tip a few more times before straightening again. "Never let it be said that Slytherins aren’t flexible," he smirked down at the Gryffindor. "And that’s just one of my many hidden talents."

Harry arched upward and clenched his arse around Draco’s shaft. "I - I think I’m going to have to get some instructional videos if I ever what to surprise you," he moaned.

"Don’t you know, Harry, innocence is the most erotic quality you have," Draco replied, bending to kiss the Gryffindor’s lips as he continued to thrust in and out of his body. "Merlyn and Morgana, you feel so good, I could di... it’s unbelievably arousing."

Deciding he’d had enough of talking, Harry captured Draco’s mouth again, grinding up against him with wild abandon as their tongues dueled and the wet slap of their bodies filled the air around them.

Wanting this to be a memory to keep him warm in the terrifying days ahead, Draco set about making it a night neither would forget. He used every trick he knew to bring them both pleasure, plied them both with sensation after sensation until both were whining from the need to find release, which he brutally denied in order send them higher and higher.

Slowing suddenly, Draco brought Harry’s legs down to his waist and carefully rolled them over so that Harry was now riding him. Gasping he looked up into the face of his lover, one hand reaching for Harry’s cock again and the other grasping the dark haired man’s neck, pulling him down to seal their lips together once more.

Having been on the edge for too long, Harry whimpered against Draco’s mouth as their change in positions rubbed the Slytherin’s cock against his prostate. Shuddering, he came, his cry of completion lost in Draco’s mouth as he sent streams of come over Draco’s chest.

Tearing his mouth away from the Gryffindor’s, Draco watched Harry come, branding the expression on the other youth’s face in his mind forever. "Harry, oh Merlyn, Harry," he groaned, his hips snapping harder and faster as he felt his own release building. Wiping his hand over his chest, Draco brought the now sticky fingers up to his lips and licked them, wanting to taste his lover as well as see him.

Harry’s whimper when he watched Draco lick his fingers was just enough to send the Slytherin over and with an almost silent gasp his back arched off the bed and he came, sending spurt after spurt of semen into his lover’s body until, exhausted, he collapsed back on the bed, bringing Harry down with him.

Rearranging his legs so they weren’t folded almost double under him, Harry sighed, nuzzling lazily at Draco’s neck as their racing hearts finally slowed and their breathing changed from harsh pants to something approaching normal.

"I’m going to have to get you gifts more often if this is the thanks I get," he murmured, lifting his head enough to nip at Draco’s ear.

"Just bring me you, that’s all I really want," Draco replied quietly, his hands running up and down Harry’s back, needing to be able to touch, to feel and memorize.

Forestalling anything Harry might say or pretend to promise, Draco sealed his lips over Harry’s once more, in an almost delicate kiss. _Not tonight, don’t think about things tonight. It’s just us tonight, no complications, no Voldemort, no Death Eaters, no Slytherin versus Gryffindor. Tonight it’s just Draco and Harry_ , he ordered himself sternly.

When Harry’s stomach rumbled it gave Draco the perfect out. Chuckling softly he grinned up at the raven-haired youth. "Keep this up, Potter and you’ll be too chubby to be on the Gryffindor team in any position!" he teased even as he levitated the tray over to the bed.

I don’t know," Harry chuckled, pushing aside his own concerns to roll off Draco and let the tray settle between them, "if I got large enough I could play keeper. Wouldn’t even need to move, I could just block all three goals at once.

"And have to have at least twenty broomsticks to do it. Besides if you got that large how would you be able to find me, hrm?" Draco asked with a decidedly arched eyebrow.

Reaching over, Draco plucked the lid off the tray and let it clatter carelessly to the floor. "Mm, cold roast beef and chicken sandwiches. Oooh and crisps!" Draco pounced. "It’s a good thing I have perfect Malfoy skin," he sniggered, "otherwise I might just get spots from all the crisps I eat."

Draco looked up, his mouth full, to see Harry laughing silently. "Whot?"

"Did I say anything?" Harry asked, still trying manfully not to snicker at Draco’s continuing rendition of Malfoy perfection. He reached for a sandwich and took a bite, washing it down with some of the chilled cider that accompanied the meal.

"I know that look, Potter. I spent six years _hating_ that look, the one that says, ‘I’m on to you, Malfoy, and you’re not going to get away with whatever you think you’re going to get away with, I guarantee it!’ I’ve seen it all too often, and usually right before you end up spoiling whatever nasty bit of fun I had planned. It was most disconcerting!" Draco claimed, downing another sandwich section as he rummaged around to see what else was on the tray.

"Horrid, aren’t I?" Harry laughed, giving Draco a sloppy kiss before snitching a crisp before the other boy ate them all. "How do you ever put up with me?"

"Because I’m a masochist and enjoy the pain and agony you give me. And because I happen to love you," Draco replied in a casual, off-handed manner before crowing "Ice cream! Mmmm, and raspberry chocolate ice with whipping cream and nuts, delicious!"

"Must be the Slytherin in you," Harry chuckled, slapping Draco’s hands away as he tried to grab all the sweets. "Careful there, Malfoy, you’ll be spilling it all over, then I’ll have to lick you clean."

Draco’s eyebrow quirked. "Would you really?" He looked from Harry to the sundae to himself and back to Harry. "Maybe next time, right now I’m too hungry to waste any of it," he laughed, picking up two spoons and handing one to Harry.

"And just so you know, Potter, when it comes to ice cream it’s every man for himself. I don’t share well!"

"Shocking bit of news, that is," Harry laughed, digging into the concoction and, in a moment of supreme sacrifice, offering it to Draco.

"Now I know its true love, you’re sharing your ice cream with me," Draco laughed, scooping up some of the mess and returning the favor while slurping his treat off of Harry’s spoon.

"Knew you’d come around eventually," Harry mumbled around his mouthful of whipped cream and syrup.

"Hey, what can I say, when it comes to gorgeous Gryffindor boys offering me ice cream, I’m easy," Draco grinned sarcastically.

Harry snickered and caught Draco’s hand, diverting his spoon to his own mouth again. "Only then?" he asked.

"Well no, but there’s a few pre-requisites. One, he must have brilliant green eyes, two, he must have messy black hair and three he must have a lightening bolt scar on his forehead. If those pre-requisites are met then yes, I’m easy."

"Damn," Harry murmured, grinning around another spoonful, "guess I hit the jackpot then. Suppose it’s a good thing Charles Bender doesn’t have green eyes; that scar he’s got looks lightningish."

"Well there is one final prerequisite," Draco murmured, leaning forward to share an ice cream kiss with Harry. "His name has to be Harry Potter."


	13. Chapter 13

_Potter,_

_It was the only way I could think of so that I could be sure that I was at least present for the, well for whatever happens. Try not to worry about me, and please remember, what I said to you that day on the bleachers, I meant with every fiber of my being. I’ve never said it to another and I never plan on saying it to anyone else. You’re it._

_See you soon,_

_Malfoy_

Harry read through the brief letter again, and then a third time, trying to force the words into some other order, one that would make more sense than the thought that Draco had...

The parchment fluttered to the floor as Harry’s hands started to shake and he forced himself to pick it up and read it again, this time cursing under his breath.

The fool, the bloody fucking fool! How could he have done this?

"Damn you to hell, Malfoy!" he shouted, stumbling to the nearest wall and hitting it until his fists bled. "You’re supposed to be safe..."

"Oi! Harry, mate, what’s gotten into you?" Ron hauled the smaller teen away from the wall bodily, grateful for once for his growth spurts over the past few years. Behind him he heard the other Gryffindor boys begin to pour in as the common room migrated up here to see what was wrong with their friend.

"Ron, what’s wrong with Harry?" Seamus began but Ron cut him off.

"Nothing, it’s nothing," he ground out, accio’ing the note. "Neville, be a mate and go fetch Hermione, will you? Tell her to come up to my room," and with that Ron pulled Harry from the room and into the male prefect’s room across the hall and slammed the door shut in the faces of those foolish enough not to get the message and bugger off.

Once inside, Harry tore himself out of Ron’s hold, snarling and cursing Draco, the fates and Voldemort. "What the fuck was he thinking, Ron?"

After reading the note, Ron sat down hard. His first instinct was to think the worst but he’d seen Draco and Harry together when neither knew he was watching. He’d snuck around in Harry’s invisibility cloak telling himself he was just protecting his friend, but what he got was a very rude awakening.

"If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say he was thinking of being there for you when you have to go up against you-know-who," Ron replied slowly. "For a guy who didn’t want to get involved he’s sure as hell gotten himself in deep. Care to guess what changed his mind?" the redhead continued, looking pointedly at Harry. Ignoring the question, Harry sank down onto Ron’s bed, his head in his hands. "I only wanted all of you to be safe. Nobody else should die."

"That’s more than a little selfish of you, don’t you think, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly as she shut the door behind her. "We’re entitled to make our own choices and we all have a stake in this war. Did you ever think that we might _want_ to stand beside our friend to the bitter end? It’s the way we began, the three of us. And Draco, he loves you so much, and you’re asking him to sit back and wait to hear that his lover is dead, how fair is that to him, Harry?"

"It isn’t, but then none of this is fair. It hasn’t been from the beginning," Harry whispered hoarsely, still not looking up at his friends.

Taking a deep breath and trying to control the stark terror racing through him at the thought of Draco near Voldemort, he marshaled his courage and looked up. "It would seem Potter’s Army is staging a coup. So, what orders do you have for me, generals?"

"Let us help you, mate, that’s all that we’ve ever wanted to do," Ron replied earnestly.

"I hate to tell you, Harry, but Draco staged the coup weeks ago. He’s been planning something and this morning, well I wasn’t in arithmancy because I was learning about his plans first hand. He had me called to Professor Dumbledore’s office where he laid out ‘Draco Malfoy’s plan to annihilate Voldiewarts’ as he put it," Hermione admitted quietly.

Harry’s hands curled into fists, but he kept a rein on his temper. "So, am I to stand on the sidelines and sell bon-bons or should I just stay here at Hogwarts and let the lot of you go about your business?"

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, her voice wounded, "That isn’t... I can’t believe you said that!"

"Oi, best mate or not, you snap at her again for wanting to help you and we’re going to have words, understand me?" Ron said very quietly.

"Now it seems to me Malfoy’s been doing what Malfoy does best, and that’s being a sneaky, underhanded Slytherin. Admittedly this time he was doing it for our side, but nevertheless I doubt Hermione knew anything until this morning, so ease up on her and let her tell us what she knows now, all right?"

"Fine," Harry snapped, his jaw clenched. In a second, however, he slumped and shook his head. "I’m sorry, ‘mione. I just, I’m scared witless is all."

"It’s all right, Harry, I understand," Hermione murmured just as Ron added his own opinion.

"Sounds like how we’ve been since you told us about that little prophecy of yours, Har, to be honest. And I have to admit; I’ve got new respect for Malfoy if he’s really doing this to be where you are. That takes some balls, mate, putting on the kind of show he’s gonna have to for you-know-who. But if anyone can pull it off, Malfoy can. You’ve got to have some faith."

"Draco and Snape have been working together to improve the tracking potion," Hermione interrupted again. "Draco took it this morning just before he left. You can find Voldemort through him, Harry, and we can find you both now too. Snape’s taught me the spell as well. And he’s raised an army; well Dumbledore has at Draco’s prodding and my letters. We’ve got aurors, ministry officials, members of the order, all of Dumbledore’s army, everyone readying to move on Voldemort’s camp so that you and he can, well you don’t have to worry about being hexed in the back while you and he, you know," Hermione finished sadly.

"Ron and I will be there to watch your back, just like we always have."

"And so will Bill and Charlie and Fred and George, and even Percy," Ron piped in. "You’re a Weasley in everything but name anyway, so it’s only right we’re there to watch out for our little brother."

"Watch it with the little brother shite," Harry answered feebly as he tried to process the sudden upending of his world.

"And Draco took the potion... Where is he?"

"He’s," Hermione looked decidedly uncomfortable, "he’s with Voldemort, Harry. He’s in the Death Eater camp preparing to get his dark mark."

"I _know_ he’s with Voldemort," Harry said heatedly, before faltering. "Dark mark? No, he can’t." He shuddered, remembering the other marks he’d seen and the way they all bound their bearers to Voldemort. "Where’s the damn camp?"

"He’s doing that? For Harry?" Ron breathed. "Bloody hell, I’m gonna have to apologize to the wanker for all the times I called him a junior Death Eater and such, aren’t I?"

"It’s not time yet, Harry, you know that," Hermione replied despairingly. She was almost as upset as Harry was at what Draco was doing. She’d actually grown quite fond of the spoiled little snot and was worried that he was taking foolish risks. But at the same time she couldn’t blame him, if it were her and Ron she’d be doing the same without question.

"It, he said it was the only way to get close to Voldemort now. Only his generals and followers are allowed in the encampment. As Lucius Malfoy’s son his position is assured. Voldemort, he said Voldemort was even letting him design his own mark, as a reward for defying his mother and Dumbledore and following his father proudly," Hermione choked out.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Harry pushed to his feet and started for the door. When Ron reached out to stop him, he halted, but continued to look away from his friends. "I’m not going to do anything stupid, I swear. It’s not time, we’re not ready. I just need some time alone, all right?"

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "just remember, you show up now and Voldemort might well put two and two together. And it won’t be you he goes after first. Doing nothing might actually keep Draco safe for now."

He looked back over his shoulder at the other two, his expression bleak. "I said I wasn’t going, and I won’t. I don’t even know where the damn camp is, remember?" That said he walked out of Ron’s room, unable to speak to answer the questions that arose when those in the common room saw his bloodied hands and bleak expression.

Death would have been easy at this point; it was living that was hell.

~*~*~

Draco looked down at the sketch of his dark mark. As dark marks go it wasn’t all that bad but he still thought it was the ugliest thing in the world. There was the prerequisite skull and snake but he had added a gray rose with verdant green leaves to the design. _As green as Harry’s eyes_ , he thought as he looked about the Death Eater camp, trying to remember as much as he could in case he would have to testify, providing he was still alive.

Please don’t hate me, Harry, I have to be here. I couldn’t let you die alone if that’s what’s going to happen. But it won’t, if I have to I’ll use the necromancer spell. I’m not going to lose you Harry James Potter.

"Umm, Draco, you-know. I mean Lord Voldemort wants to see you," Goyle said softly, peeking his head through the door of a house that once belonged to a happy muggle family who were now a dead muggle family.

"Well of course he does, Goyle," Draco sighed, pushing the parchment aside. He still had a few days to perfect the mark. "And where is our lord?"

~*~*~

Forcing himself to focus, Harry sat through hour after hour of meetings with the Order at 12 Grimmauld Place, which technically, he now owned. Sirius’ mother’s portrait had started her usual ruckus when the group’s members apparated in, but a deadly glare from Harry had actually shut her up for once. In his state of mind and the level of magical power his anger was generating, burning the harridan to ashes in her frame would have been a pleasure and really quite simple despite the fact that she’d claimed her portrait was indestructible, inflammable and unmovable.

Strategies were thought out and discarded as more news of which witches and wizards had gone to Voldemort’s side filtered in. Some of the names were expected and some shocking, but Harry didn’t react to any. His emotions were locked deep inside him, he’d managed that much the first day after Draco had left. Letting anything show now would be his undoing, and possibly the world’s.

"Much more of this and he’s gonna crack, ‘mione. We need word that Draco’s alive at least, something to give him hope.

"He is, if he were... dead," Hermione gulped, "the potion would have stopped working. It hasn’t."

"Well, there’s a blessing, but he needs more, hellfires _I_ need more and I don’t even like the git!"

~*~*~

"Did you see, it, Draco? Did you see it? My first Avada Kedavra!" Crabbe crowed proudly, strutting around the body of the wizard they’d caught trying to spy on the camp. "Took him out in one shot!"

"Oh yeah, you’re a real man," Draco sneered. "That was absolutely brilliant you pompous little arse. We’re supposed to be lying low and not drawing attention to ourselves. Do you _want_ to let the Aurors know where we are?"

" _Dracoo_ ," came the raspy voice of their master, " _don’t be too hard on the boy. Unlike you he hasssn’t the military mind to grasssp the idea of ssstealth. You did well young Crabbe, but alasss, Draco isss correct, you could have risssked ussss before we are ready. Cruccccio_."

Draco watched his friend for six years fall under the weight of a Crucio and fought to keep his face bland and expressionless. He thanked whatever dark gods watched over foolish children like Crabbe and Goyle that Voldemort seemed to realize that Vincent wasn’t strong enough to take a prolonged dose of the unforgivable.

"Come, Draaacooo, I wisssh to ssspeak with you about what you have learned at Hogwartsss, essspecially about Dumbledore and Potter."

Draco followed Voldemort at a subservient five paces and cast a glance at Goyle. _Help Crabbe you idiot,_ he mouthed to the other boy before disappearing into the gloom that was Voldemort’s bastion.

~*~*~

"Remus, I don’t know how much longer I can take this." Harry paced back and forth the upper floor bedroom, sparing a glance at his father and godfather’s best friend.

"Two more days, Harry," Lupin counseled gently. "Two more days. I know waiting is hell, believe me I know, but if you’re placing as much trust in Sybil’s prophecy as you seem to be, you have to wait. We all have to wait." Under his shaggy brows, Lupin’s amber eyes were solemn and saddened.

"I just hate it," Harry sighed, finally dropping into a chair and kicking at the floor. "Anything could be happening to him and people are dying, even the muggle news has noticed it."

"Harry we have news!" Hermione came flying in to the room, panting and out of breath, with Ron hot on her heels.

"He’s alive and seems to be doing okay. Voldemort’s taken him under his wing, kind of like a protégé. Apparently Draco’s been making some pretty good calls on the idiocy of some of Voldie’s followers."

"What Hermione didn’t say is that Tonks managed to get close enough to see. She morphed into a Death Eater supporter who we’d captured and petrified. It was a one-shot deal coz when Tonks finally got out of the camp; we made the arrest of the supporter a very public event. It was Goyle’s sister we nabbed," Ron added.

"Thank you," Harry whispered, feeling as if he was able to draw a full breath for the first time in almost two weeks. Having Hermione tell him Draco was alive based on the potion was one thing, but someone actually seeing him... it was pure relief.

Lupin smiled at the three teens though his eyes were cloudy and there were dark circles under them.

"Did she say... has he had to get his mark yet?"

"Not yet," Hermione muttered. "Harry he... Voldemort knows you’re coming. Draco had to tell him about the prophecy, well not all of it just that Trelawney had made one and that you’d gone to Dumbledore and confessed all. He said that he overheard the two of you talking while he was skulking around Dumbledore’s office. Pansy had let that one loose so he needed something to cover himself.

"Anyway, as a reward for that bit of information, Voldemort’s holding a special initiation for Draco the day of the eclipse. He’ll get his mark and then get to watch you die as a double reward, at least that’s the scuttlebutt in the Death Eater camp," Hermione finished sadly. "Oh Harry, I’m sorry."

Swallowing against the fear and anger that threatened to erupt, Harry managed to shrug. "Well, I suppose I’ll have to do what I can to spoil their little party. You know how Draco feels about those marks - ‘horribly tacky’ he called them once. He’d kill me if I was late and he had to get one." His voice broke on the last, and he turned away quickly, coming close to breaking down when he felt Remus’ hand on his back.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, waving Ron off. "Draco wanted me to pass on a message if it was needed. He wanted you to know that this is _his_ choice, and that he’s a big boy and he went over knowing full well the price he’d have to pay. He doesn’t want you to try and be St. Potter the Martyr for him. Do what you have to _when_ you have to and not a moment sooner. Too much is at stake to risk it all for a silly little blemish on his, and he made sure I’d say this exactly, for a silly little blemish on his perfect skin. He could stand to have one or two little imperfections."

"I didn’t mean I was going there before it was time, you’ve all made it abundantly clear all it would lead to would be even more people dying. I just want... I just want it all to be over, one way or the other. I’m tired." Harry raised his eyes and looked around at his friends and the closest thing he had to a father figure. "I’m just tired."

Remus pulled Harry into a hard hug. "Your father and mother and Sirius would be so proud of you, Harry. _I_ am proud of you," he whispered hoarsely.

There was a quick knock on the door and then Tonks stuck her head around into the room. "Hiya Harry," she grinned. "The Order whisked me away so fast that I didn’t have time to give Hermione everything. Hermione had to tell me a bit about Draco when I went in so I’d be prepared but I gotta tell you, that guy is damn sharp.

"He came up to me and asked me to deliver a package to his ‘mother’ thanking her for his occamy and he was inquiring how it was doing. If Hermione didn’t tell me you’d given him that I wouldn’t have had a clue but anyway, this is for you, then," she finished, thrusting a message spell towards Harry with a tiny golden dragon attached to it. "Little guy tried to singe my eyebrows off more than once."

"We... we’ll be right outside, okay, Harry?" Hermione replied quietly, tugging Ron’s arm as they followed Tonks out of the room, Remus on their heels.

 _Dear Mum,_ , Draco’s voice filled the room.

_"I know how hard it must be for you to get to sleep right now, worrying about me and all. I just wanted you to know I’m fine. I’ve never been better. Lord Voldemort trusts me, Mum, just like he did Father, and I’m being a valuable lieutenant, learning all I can of what his plans are so I can aid in the coming battle._

_I miss you, Mum, and love you very much. Try not to worry too much, have faith that this will be over soon and our side will champion and I’ll come home to you._

_My eternal love,_

_Your Draconis._

_P.S. I’ve enclosed a lullaby ball with the song you used to sing to me as a child. It always helped me fall asleep when I was scared and feeling alone. I hope it will do the same for you._

Harry tapped the ball and listened as the gentle melody swirled around him, the lyrics whispering of faith and love and hope, He barely noticed it when the tiny dragon climbed onto his arm, settling next to the silver snake that was an almost permanent fixture around his wrist.

Laying his head down across his arms, not noticing as the toys moved out of the way, Harry closed his eyes, tears falling to puddle on his glasses and eventually pool on the table beneath his head. Tears for all those who were gone, tears for those who would die in the upcoming battle, and tears for all the innocence that had been lost, including his own.


	14. Chapter 14

The mark was finished, and Voldemort had been intrigued and approving of the design Draco had chosen. "Like your father, my Dragon, a rosse among the thornsss. You will do great thingsss with your life. Tonight we ssshall cccelebrate the death of Harrry Potter and tonight you ssshall be mine forever," the Dark Lord chuckled maniacally as he petted Nagini and looked down on his loyal and beautiful servant.

~*~*~

Those who gathered on the side of the light were amassed not far from the Death Eater camp. Plans were already in motion to subdue the guards, but everyone there knew that there were wards, which would invariably be tripped, warning the Dark Lord of their approach.

Harry glanced upward, but the clouds obscured the sun from view. Still, in his bones, he could feel the hour of the eclipse drawing nearer. It all came down to this, all the preparation, the tactics, and the studying. The members of Dumbledore’s Army were going to try to hold off the Dementors while the older wizards would take on the Death Eaters. Harry had just one task. Find Voldemort.

And kill him.

~*~*~

Draco watched the sky darken with a leaden heart. He could feel the seconds slipping away. Soon Harry would be here and then... what? "Be careful, oh Goddess of all, please be careful," he whispered silently. If he only knew when the attack would come, but he had no idea.

"Mrow."

Draco looked down to find a shorthaired tabby rubbing against his legs. A tabby that looked very familiar. "Minerva?" he whispered.

"Mrow!" the cat replied in assent and then scratched at her collar. A note.

The note was short and to the point. _Watch for lightning in the east._

"What’s that, Malfoy?" Zabini asked, walking over and trying to read the note over Draco’s shoulder. "Love letters?"

Draco cast a spell that set the note on fire. "What’s the matter, Zabini, jealous that I’m still getting some while you’re getting nothing?" Draco smirked as he petted the cat casually.

"But if you must know it was a scrap of paper from the smelly bone book those stinking muggles used. Apparently the cat decided to play with it. Rather plain and boring, and far from sinister," Draco continued, his voice a bored drawl. Picking up the cat, Draco turned and looked at Zabini down his nose.

"Well this has been a _truly inspiring_ conversation. So inspiring, in fact, that I believe I shall go have a nap. After all I’ve got a busy night ahead of me," he purred maliciously before sauntering towards his temporary home.

"Draco Malfoy takes it up the arse at long last," Zabini murmured, his smile cruel. "That’ll be one to laugh about."

~*~*~

Dumbledore looked toward the sky, his sharp eyes seeming to drive the clouds away, because at that moment they thinned, revealing the bright orb of the sun - an orb that was now beginning to appear misshapen.

"It is time," he said solemnly. "Let it begin."

At the signal, the front ranks started their work, wizards and witches who could work quickly and cleanly to take out the outer guards of the Death Eater’s camp. Harry watched Cho Chang and Dennis Creevy slip into the forest and vanish and realized he was holding his breath just as it seemed the whole world was.

~*~*~

Draco was dressed the plain black garb of an acolyte. Voldemort stood before him, wand extended. "Today isss a momentousss ocasssion," he intoned, looking at the gathering crowd. "Today I welcome into my army Draco Malfoy who will ssserve me in hisss father’sss ssstead. At my right hand, learning my waysss, he ssshall be my heir!" Green lightning shot out of Voldemort’s wand and engulfed Draco’s wrist.

He gasped under the excruciating pain and his knees buckled but other than that he showed no sign of the agony he was in. Others might scream when receiving the dark mark but he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy’s didn’t scream. _Funny,_ he thought, trying not to stare in horror as his own personal mark burned itself into his flesh. _The spell is the exact shade of green that Harry’s eyes are._

Above him, Voldemort watched on, approvingly. So like his father, a steel core surrounded by beauty and a brain as sharp as a scythe, cutting through whatever stood in his path. Others would have passed out from the pain by now, only a handful managed to stay conscious, Voldemort’s eyes slid to Severus Snape as he remembered the potion master’s induction.

Severus tried not to recoil at the horror of watching Draco bend to Voldemort’s will. _Foolish, foolish boy,_ he thought with horrified pride. _Is Potter really worth this to you?_

At last the burning faded and the spell dissipated. "Arissse my dragon, and take your placcce among my chosssen," Voldemort crowed. "Sssoon we ssshall have the world trembling beneath usss. Sssoon not even Harry Potter will ssstand in our way!"

Lightening flashed across the sky and Draco’s eyes met Snape’s while all others turned heavenward to watch. It had begun.

~*~*~

The beginning of the battle was eerily quiet. As the light vanished from the sky, a hush fell. Animals either took to their burrows or fled the area. Birds fell silent and even the wind died down.

Thunder boomed and lightning flashed across the sky, then all hell broke loose.

Having no other orders except find Voldemort, Harry was relegated into the back ranks and he chafed at the idea of letting other people mow a path through the dark forces for him. Finally, unable to stand the screams and cries from in front of him any longer, he broke away from Hagrid who had been given baby-sitting duties and dove into the thick of things, his wand at the ready, Voldemort’s maniacal laughter ringing in his ears.

The first Death Eater Draco took out was Zabini, the second, Parkinson. People he had called friend, whom he had shared a life with for six years before fate made Draco an enemy they didn’t even know about. He was very precise in his killing curses, coming a breath away from those who were on the side of the light to take down those on the side of the dark.

Severus stood by his side doing the same. They watched Voldemort cut a swathe through the Aurors while all around them the Death Eaters rallied to their lord. "Was he worth it?" Severus finally asked; sweat pouring down his face and, Merlyn help them both, blood.

"Every blessed second of agony, he’s worth everything," Draco replied with conviction. The mark burned, reminding him of the choice he’d made. He could feel Voldemort drawing energy from it. "He’s using us to fuel his magic. It won’t be long before he begins to drain the weaker of us dry."

"I know," Severus replied tiredly. "Foolish child, why do you think I was against you getting the mark? I knew this would happen."

Draco said nothing, just continued firing curses. He watched with great sadness as Cho Chang fell, and then Justin Fitch-Fletchley. Children, they were killing children and didn’t even care.

"Dra-draco, Pro-professor," Neville Longbottom stumbled towards them, wounded, but still fighting. The quietly courageous boy was very much proving his mettle today. He was a Gryffindor through and through.

"Foolish child," Severus growled and took precious moments from hexing to thrust a potion into Neville’s hands. "Drink this quickly, it should help." And then he turned back to the fray.

~*~*~

"Potter!" Harry ducked the hex a robed and masked Death Eater flung at him, turning instinctively at the sound of his name. Peter Pettigrew stood there, his eyes wild, all traces of sanity gone from his expression.

"Now you die, Potter. Then he’ll value me again. No more hiding in the shadows for Wormtail!"

The former Marauder raised his wand, only to be tackled to the ground.

"Go, Harry," Remus yelled, getting to his feet and staring down at his former friend. "I’ll take care of this." As Pettigrew struggled to his feet, Lupin uttered the killing curse as tears ran down his face for the loss of the boy Peter had been.

Deeper into the battle Harry waded, not noticing the burns and cuts he received from spells flung in his direction. He stepped over bodies of people he knew well, and others he knew not at all without registering the fact, drawn as if to a lodestone to the center of the camp where he knew Voldemort waited. His scar ached, threatening to split his head open, and he spared a tiny prayer that Draco, Ron and Hermione were all right before the circle of Death Eaters before him opened, revealing the Dark Lord.

~*~*~

"Oh sweet Morgana," Draco breathed. Messy black hair, verdant green eyes, endearing glasses. "Harry’s here."

"Go to him, Draco," Severus ordered softly.

"But you’re hurt, I can’t leave you alone," Draco groaned, as if in agony. The once overly neat Slytherin prince was now a mess of torn clothing, soot stains, burns, gashes and blood. He was not at all his usual peacock self, it was as if all the trappings were slowly being torn away to reveal the essential core that was Draco, the steely backbone of strength, his essential self, the warrior willing to live and die for his cause, for his love.

"Dragon," Severus growled.

"Don’t worry about the professor, Malfoy," came the voice of Neville Longbottom once more. There was another who had been peeled down to his essential self and that self was magnificently Gryffindor.

"I stuck close by figuring sooner or later you’d need to, Harry told us, his friends, about what you were doing and why. I’ll stay with Professor Snape; you go be with who you’re supposed to be with."

A fleeting hug to Severus and a handshake to Neville and Draco was off. Now all he had to do was take care of _all_ the Death Eaters surrounding Voldemort and Harry and he’d be home free. Gods above, he was going to die. But at least he’d be with Harry.

~*~*~

"You’re looking a bit peaked, Riddle," Harry rasped, his voice rough from the smoke and sulfur blowing around the Death Eater encampment. "Being a dark lord a bit taxing?"

"Havinggg to put up with you wearsss my patienccce," Voldemort hissed and, deciding to forgo with the pre-battle trading of insults, began to throw hex after hex at Harry, positive he would triumph.

Harry managed to deflect most of the curses, though several got through his defenses, making him groan with pain. It felt as if there was acid in his veins, working its way to his heart, but he didn’t give in.

Summoning his strength, he cast a single spell at Voldemort, a child’s cantrip really, one that kept things honest when playing a game. It was a spell Ron had mentioned in passing once, and Harry was sure it had never been used for anything like this.

"As to me, to you," he whispered, pointing his wand in the Dark Lord’s direction, the faint glow of his charm almost invisible against the virulent colors of Voldemort’s curses.

" _Harry_ ," Draco whispered, watching in despair. "No, please, don’t!" but it was too late, every hex and curse Voldemort threw at Harry echoed back doubly on him. Soon it was a wicked loop of pain and poison that had both Harry and Riddle staggering under the weight.

It was then that the weakest of the Death Eaters began to fall, their hearts suddenly stopping from an overload of using their magic while having it drained from them. Draco cursed silently as he watched Goyle fall not to far from him, the boy’s behemoth size only hastening his death. "Got to be a way, got to be..."

A flash off to the side caught Harry’s attention and he glanced toward the pale light, giving a pained grimace that might have been a smile when he saw Draco there. _He’s going to kill me for this,_ he mused, coughing up blood as one of the spells twisted his guts into knots inside him. He could feel heat flaring against his chest as the gems in the pendant Draco had made him flared and died, their energies used up in a futile battle against Voldemort’s might.

Grimacing, Harry looked back at Voldemort, trying to goad him into a final attack. "What’s the matter, Riddle? Afraid you can’t take me? I killed you once when I was a baby, so what’s to stop me from doing it now?"

"You ssssshall never defeat me, whelp!" Voldemort cried, madness taking him as he began to rain unforgivables down on Harry’s head, drawing more and more power from his Death Eaters. They were expendable, he was not, and he would triumph!

Draco looked desperately around; needing something to break Voldemort’s grasp, but the only way to do that would be for Harry to kill both Riddle and himself. One by one more and more Death Eaters began to fall. If he didn’t act soon, so would Severus and himself, despite the weakness of their tie to Voldemort, his still in it’s infancy, Sev’s due to the years of separation from many of the Death Eater ceremonies and murder sprees.

Gnashing his teeth in desperation, Draco quite suddenly was hit by inspiration. Was he a wizard or a muggle? Smacking his head at his own stupidity, he cast around for anything that could be used and came up with the wand of a fallen Auror. It was perfectly fitting. Muttering quickly under his breath, Draco transfigured the wand into an athema and, moving up behind Voldemort, plunged the ceremonial blade deep into his back and through his heart, whispering, "Forgive me, love."

From where he was crouched on the ground in front of Voldemort, Harry managed to lift his head and stare when Riddle’s triumphant cry changed into a shriek. At the same moment, a searing pain cut through his chest, and he groaned, dropping his wand as he pitched forward onto his hands, each breath an agony.

Voldemort collapsed to the ground, and Harry looked up a final time to see Draco standing behind him, a bloody knife in his hand. "Knew... knew we’d teach you to think like a muggle," he gasped, managing a smile before collapsing to the blood-soaked ground.

Death was sweet as one of Dumbledore’s candies, as stern as McGonagall’s look when she caught you out. It was as sharp as Hermione’s intellect and as boisterous as the Weasley’s laughter. It was huge but gentle, like Hagrid, and quiet but strong like Neville. It was silver and gray, it was beautiful, and in the end, it just was.

"NO!" Draco was kneeling beside Harry before his heart had the chance to beat. "No, I’m not going to lose you, not now, not... AVERT!" he bellowed sending friend and foe back behind an impenetrable barrier made up of equal parts terror, rage, desperation and grief so thick it could be seen.

He was vaguely aware of their friends gathering, of Dumbledore with his wand raised, of Hermione and Ron pounding against the spell, desperate to get in, of Madame Pomfrey pleading with him to let her try and save Harry. But Draco already knew that she was too late, they were all too late. All except him and the darkest of blood magics... a necromancer’s spell.

Wiping the blade he still carried clean, he ripped open Harry’s shirt and without hesitation sliced a gash first above his lover’s heart and then across the palm of his hand and began to chant.

« Unus vita, unus cor cordis, unus anima, unus corpus Ego coniugo nos in aetrunum Duo intra unus Sanguis intra Sanguis Donec mors mortis adserto denuo »

Draco could feel the energies swirl and scream and as the spell took more and more out of him, pouring his life’s energy into Harry, reanimating him, the barrier that had kept the others out fell and they tried to rush forward only to stopped by Dumbledore.

"You cannot break the spell, to do so would kill them both now. We must let it finish."

The world grayed around the edges, fire and then ice raced through his veins and just before he lost touch with the world completely, he felt the chest beneath his palm heave and saw the most beautiful green eyes flicker open. And then he saw nothing


	15. Chapter 15

It was dark when Harry woke and he blinked, trying to look around in confusion but finding himself unable to move. Images of the last battle surged through his mind, and he began to fight in earnest, suddenly sure that Voldemort had won and he was locked in some dungeon under his stronghold in preparation for torture.

"Shh, don’t try to move or to talk Harry. Madame Pomfrey is still trying to undo all the hexes and curses that hit you," Hermione whispered as she moved into her friend’s line of sight. "I thought we’d lose you for sure, we did lose you, but Draco..." Her laugh was more of a sob, and she glanced past Harry to the still form that lay on the bed next to his. "Well we should have known that any Slytherin worth his salt would have a back up plan, and our Slytherin Prince had a doozy of a one."

"Don’t know which one of you is the stupider git," Ron agreed, moving to stand next to Hermione, his arm going around her shoulders while the other was tucked uselessly into a sling. "But I think we did discover a great scientific breakthrough though. We’ve answered the age-old question of how to turn a Slytherin into a Gryffindor. Let him fall in love."

"Draco..." Harry began to fight even harder, trying to sit up and see the blond Slytherin, relief coursing through him at the sight of his friends alive, but tempered by dread. "Is he? He killed Voldemort, right? I remember that." Everything else was a muddle, but he clearly remembered seeing Draco standing over the Dark Lord’s body. "He was all right, what happened?"

Just then Madam Pomfrey bustled up and clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "I thought I told you he wasn’t to get agitated. This is for your own good, Mr. Potter. Soporis."

Ron watched Pomfrey walk off, her pace brisker than usual as she had a ward full of battle victims to treat. "He’s not going to be too happy with her when he wakes up; he was bloody determined to see Malfoy."

"Hopefully Draco will be awake the next time he wakes up, otherwise I might just have to cast that one on him myself. He’s still so weak, Ron, we came so close to losing both of them," Hermione sighed, brushing a hand through her ratty hair. "Ugh, I’m a mess, we both are. Do you think we’ll have time to clean up before he wakes up?"

"I’ll sit with him," Neville offered, getting up from where he lay in a bed across the hall.

"Neville, no, you’re hurt!"

"Not badly, Hermione, I’m actually feeling loads better now, and there are people who need the bed worse than I do. I’ll just sit between Harry and Draco and wait until you come back then, all right?"

She paused, plainly uncertain, then finally nodded. "You’ll send for us if they wake up?"

"Of course," Neville said, his tone stronger then usual, even though he was weak from his injuries.

"We’ll see you soon then." Hermione leaned against Ron’s side as they walked out of the infirmary, both drawing comfort from each other.

~*~*~

"Sweet gods of chaos and misrule," Draco groaned, his eyes flickering open slowly. "Did anyone catch the name of that mad whatever it was that hit me?"

"Easy, Draco," Neville cautioned, shifting his splinted arm so he could place a hand on the Slytherin’s shoulder. "Madame Pomfrey said you have a bad case of spell shock on top of what you did with your spell." He glanced over at the bed on the other side of him plainly still awed by what he had seen done earlier.

"But it worked? He’s... he’s alive?" Draco asked, appalled by the trembling in his voice but unable to help it.

"He’s very much alive you stupid little boy," Snape growled, coming to stand next to Draco’s bed. Nodding civilly to Neville, he glared down at his godson. "What were you thinking? Using a necromancy spell. And where did you find such an abomination?"

Draco’s lips curled in a half sneer. "Maybe I was proving that I am my father’s son after all," he snarked before shaking his head and dropping the attitude. "I was doing what I had to, to make sure he came back to me Uncle Sev. I spent days, weeks, looking for a solution from the light side but found nothing. When the light failed me, I turned to the dark. I wasn’t going to lose him, not now, not when... I just couldn’t," Draco finished helplessly.

"Idiot child." But Snape’s voice was without heat and his hand gently stroked Draco’s silvery blond hair out of his face. "You realize what you’ve done, don’t you? You’ve made your life dependent upon his. No matter what happens between the two of you your life will always be bound to his and when he dies the next time he’ll take you with him."

"So be it," Draco replied firmly. "It’s worth the price."

"Malfoy, what did you do?" On the other side of Neville’s chair, Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows, panting harshly at the effort. "What the fuck did you do!" He had to have been hallucinating, for Draco to have done that... for him. No.

"Mr. Potter! Lie down this instance," Madam Pomfrey shrilled, marching towards the two beds.

Shaking his head at the futility of her actions, Snape motioned to Neville. "If you would be so kind as to get out of the way, Longbottom?" he requested mildly and then when the Gryffindor had moved and taken the chair with him, Snape simply spelled the two beds together so that they were one large one.

"You’re not going to keep either of them un-agitated until they have this out and having them strain themselves to see over Longbottom or trying to get closer to the other would just make them worse. I suggest we let them talk," Snape suggested to Poppy and then continued glaring at both Harry and Draco.

"With the understanding that should either of them raise their voice above a whisper or show signs of agitation that is beyond what can be considered healthy, _both_ will be put into an immediate healing coma and not be awakened until _both_ are healed. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded almost mutinously, trying to appear calm so that the others would leave. He wanted to get this over and done with, first he had to find out why he was alive, then he could mourn the dead, and he knew in the pit of his stomach there were a lot of them.

Draco echoed Harry’s nod, looking at his lover apprehensively. _One would think he’d be happy to be here with me but he’s acting as if I’ve... bollocks, have I ruined it for us?_ Draco moaned silently.

"So, you, umm, had a question?" he asked after long, silent minutes.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly, finally turning his head to look at Draco, the dark circles under the other boy’s eyes and the gaunt look of his features telling Harry something of the price Draco had paid for his time with Voldemort.

He remembered something then, and reached out, biting back a groan as he took Draco’s right arm and turned it over, and pushing back his pajama top to look at the skull and snake that marked his flesh. "I thought, how, Draco?"

"It was worth it," Draco replied, not looking at the ugly mark on his forearm. "It was worth it because it let me be there, let me... I killed you," Draco’s voice broke and tears began to stream. "When I killed him I killed you too, oh Merlyn help me, I killed..." he couldn’t get it out, all he could do was shake with repressed grief, not sure if he would ever be under control again.

Shoving the strange emotion he felt at being alive - it was almost resentment somehow - to the back of his mind, Harry managed to move closer to Draco and take the Slytherin into his arms. "Well, you seem to have done a right poor job of it," he murmured, resting his head against Draco’s and for the moment allowing himself to luxuriate in the feeling of holding the other boy again.

"Couldn’t let you die for good, you prat," Draco finally sniffled, fisting his eyes and then wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. " I wanted that lifetime with you and if you had stayed dead I would have had to off myself just on principal alone, so I... brought you back."

"How?" Harry asked, pulling back enough to look into Draco’s eyes, his thumb rubbing over the dark mark on the blond’s arm. "I heard Snape say something about necromancy and being tied together..."

"My father’s real library, the one the Ministry of Magic could never find," Draco admitted with a sigh. "That weekend I went home, the Hogsmeade one? I wasn’t really going through my father’s effects; I was going through his library looking for something, anything, which could help.

"What I found was a book of Necromancy, a dark arts guide to raising the dead so to speak. And in that book I found a spell, the spell I used."

Draco took a deep breath and repeated the spell he’d used, saying it in English instead of Latin.

One life, one heart, one soul, one body I bind us forever

Two into one blood into blood until death claims us anew

"That’s what I did, Potter," he finished miserably, positive Harry would be disgusted with him now.

"Oh," was all Harry could think of to say. He swallowed and licked his dry lips, trying to find the words to explain what he was feeling. "You saved my life, Malfoy, or gave it back to me at any rate. I’m, I should be pissed at you for taking a chance with your own that way, I really should, and probably if I wasn’t so damned happy to see you I would be, but right now... Right now I’m just going to concentrate on the fact that we both survived."

Draco looked up from beneath the fringe of blond bangs, shocked, amazed and grateful. "You mean you’re not... disgusted with me?" he finally got out. "And you don’t mind that I bound myself to you until you die? Well, until we die, because the way spell works is if you do we both do," Draco finished with an infinitesimal shrug to his shoulders.

Harry took a moment to process that information, then looked at Draco again. "It seems my lot in life to be tied to Slytherins, all I can say is you’re much more to my liking then Volde - Fuck! If I’m, then he’s... Is Voldemort dead?"

"I don’t know," Draco admitted slowly. "He died when you... you died but I was more concerned about getting to you than anything else and when I did, I was a little preoccupied and then I was unconscious."

"Oh, he is very much dead, my dear boys, no need to worry about that," came Dumbledore’s tired but happy voice. "However, I must caution you, Harry, to be careful with your language while in the infirmary. There are some very young ears here," he continued with a chuckle and then sobered.

"But alas, while Voldemort is dead, the war still rages on. It was only due to the backlash amongst the Death Eaters upon Voldemort’s death that we were able to retreat so easily. Both camps are now regrouping and burying their dead while tending to their wounded. I fear that this is far from over."

Though he felt profound relief at the knowledge Voldemort was dead, Harry felt his stomach knot. "Who... Who did we lose?"

The Headmaster looked toward the floor, suddenly seeming to be a tired, old man rather then one of the most powerful wizards alive. "The list is long, and you both need to rest. The memorial service will be in two days, but for now..."

He raised his head and studied both teens. "Now you should sleep. We’re all going to need our strength." When both Draco and Harry started to protest, Dumbledore shook his head and raised his wand, murmuring ‘Soporis’ and sending both of them back into a deep healing sleep.

~*~*~

Draco shifted uncomfortably as he looked around at the other members of the Order of the Phoenix. Who would have ever imagined that Lucius Malfoy’s little boy would end up being a do-gooder? Not a lot of the ministry types by the glares he was getting, he smirked to himself. A few of the Aurors seemed right twitchy and their hands kept shifting closer and closer to their wands as they looked at him.

Of course it probably didn’t help that he refused to hide his dark mark and it was visible on the underside of his forearm as he was wearing a shirt with its sleeves rolled up in concession to the warm spring day. Draco refused to be ashamed of what he had done to keep Harry alive and if those bloody ministry types had a problem with it, they could stick their precious wands where the sun didn’t shine and light them!

Snape shifted slightly in the chair next to him, drawing Draco’s attention back to Dumbledore.

"Harry, Hermione and Weasley will be along shortly, sir," he informed the headmaster. "Ron was having his cursed arm looked at. Madam Pomfrey feels it’s almost cured and wanted to make sure before she removed the immobulus on it."

"Thank the makers," Arthur Weasley sighed in relief as Draco watched on. In the two weeks since the first battle the older man had been run ragged at the ministry and spent many a night worrying about his offspring and the injuries they’d sustained. He knew he couldn’t protect them forever but they were so young...

Shaking his head, the Minister gave a fatalistic shrug. In times such as these the youth often grew up faster than their parents would have liked. Children like Draco Malfoy, to whom he turned to speak.

"And how are you doing, my boy? You’re looking much better than you were when I popped into the infirmary to check on Ron, Harry and the rest of my lot. Oh, tell Harry that he’s to bring you to the Burrow the next time he comes for a visit," he informed the blonde before leaving.

~*~*~

"It feels so empty," Harry murmured as he, Hermione, and Ron made their way to the Great Hall.

"A lot of students were called home when the fighting started," Hermione explained. "I doubt they’ll be back until it’s over."

"Most of Slytherin won’t be back at all, either because they were recruited into the Death Eater ranks or they lost parents or loved ones who were. And of those that didn’t choose sides a lot pulled their children home out of fear of reprisals and for safety reasons," Ron put in, flexing his right arm and wincing as underused muscles pulled. "Malfoy’s the only one left from his year."

Harry nodded, stopping and leaning against the wall to catch his breath. He was recovering from the curses he’d endured, but too slowly for his liking. Madame Pomfrey allowed him out of the infirmary for short periods of time under orders that if he didn’t return; it would be back to bed rest.

"Voldemort didn’t tell them how the mark bound them to him," he said once he’d caught his breath. "And they were too blind to realize what it would do, most of them anyway."

"Harry, don’t," Hermione sighed putting her arm around her friend and hugging him hard. "There’s no sense beating yourself up about it, most of them went in with eyes wide open thinking they were choosing the winning side. There was nothing you could have done; there was nothing any of us could have done."

"’Mione’s right, mate, besides, how can you be responsible for you-know... for Voldemort lying to ‘em. They’re bloody Slytherins, who should know better that there was a chance he was lying than people from his own house?

"Anyhow, we’re gonna be late, the Order’s having a meeting and we’re all to be there. Something about marshalling forces and dividing mop up duties and so on and so forth."

"All right, well, let’s see what an invalid can do to help the cause of goodness and light." Both Hermione and Ron glared at him and Harry held up a hand before they went off on him. "Joking, I’m just joking, okay?"

"Just be thankful Draco didn’t hear you say that," Hermione muttered. "He’d have beaten you over the head with his father’s cane!"

Ron shook his head. "I think you’re both crackers to be quite honest, but hey, they say that’s a sign of true love. Imagine, each trying to die in order to make sure the other one lives."

Hermione elbowed the youngest Weasley male in the stomach. " _Some_ of us find it very touching, Ronald Weasley, so you’d best hold your tongue unless you’re expecting to..." Hermione blushed a bright shade of pink as she realized what she was about to say. "Um never mind, but you know what I’m talking about!"

Harry shared a glance with Ron that told him exactly what Hermione had been about to say, but he pantomimed zipping his lips, not wanting her to go after him next.

They started walking toward the Great Hall again, their steps slower then normal to accommodate Harry’s dragging pace. By the time they reached the hall, he was grateful, and sank into the first open chair, trying to concentrate on what Dumbledore was saying, but for the moment, only able to hear the blood pounding in his ears.

Once Harry recovered, he looked around the room, finally spying Draco at the other end of the long table, his occamy wrapped around his neck like a living necklace. That brought a small smile to Harry’s face, but it vanished as he listened to the debate going on around them.

Draco fought the urge to bang his head against the table. This was worse than Divination and the History of Magic combined. He glanced at his godfather who looked just as agitated as he felt and then glanced at Harry who looked like he should be in bed. And that decided things for him. Clearing his throat loudly, Draco turned to Dumbledore. "With all due respect, Headmaster, it seems to me that there are far too many people obfuscating and far too few decisions being made."

"And what would you know about it you treacherous little Death Eater?" one of the more obviously fanatical Death Eater haters growled.

"Well let’s see," Draco replied calmly. "I know that Walden McNair is a Death Eater and a ministry official, I know that Cornelius Fudge was in my father’s, and therefore Voldemort’s pocket, I know that the Dementors let the LeStranges and my father escape from Azkaban, oh and that they’re only in it for the power, hrmmm, what else do I know? Oh yes, that there’s a Voldemort spy in the auror’s midst, never did hear his or her name but I know he exists... Is that enough to start with?" Draco smirked.

"Lies, they’re all lies you good for nothing piece of Slytherin tras..."

" ** _SILENCE_**!" Dumbledore bellowed, using the Sonorus spell to make his voice even more impressive. When the room had quieted he looked at Draco. "Can you prove these accusations?" he asked quietly.

"My father kept detailed accounts of the monies paid to Fudge through a Gringott’s account as well as those made to an anonymous vault used by the traitor in the aurors. That vault is in the Gringott’s Swiss bank and like its muggle counterpart, doesn’t divulge its clientele. I also have proof of McNair’s Death Eater activities. Is there anything else you’d like?"

"How dare you call me a Death Eater when you’re the one sitting there with the dark mark on your arm!" McNair stood; his rotund face flushed dark red. "You should be locked up with the rest of the scum..."

He would have said more, but a silencing charm chopped off his words and another immobilized him.

"Now then, where were we?" Dumbledore asked as several burly wizards carried the frozen man out of the hall. "Ah yes, your father’s bank accounts. I believe we’ve a portkey to that bank, so perhaps after dinner you can get us that information, Draco?"

Harry relaxed back into his chair, letting his wand slide back into his sleeve and clenching his hands together under the table to stop them from shaking.

"But of course, Headmaster," Draco replied with a graceful inclination of his head. Picking at the invisible lint on his sleeve Draco was every inch the cool Slytherin Prince he was purported to be. Refusing to rise to the taunts and accusations he merely eyed those loudmouths with an icy stare and a regal tilt of an eyebrow.

However, inside he was seething. How dare they sit there with their respective wands up their arses while trying to convince people, themselves included, that this wasn’t a war it was merely a fluke of nature, as if people like Harry, Ron, Hermione and Severus, not to mention all the others at the battle of Ickleswold who survived and died for the cause were making things up. But these blowhards were actually trying to tell Albus Dumbledore what to do and how to do it when they had for years followed the lead of a Voldemort collaborator! It galled Draco to no end.

Around his neck, Draco’s occamy shifted and hissed unhappily, upset by her master’s roiling emotions. Draco petted her head absently and then looked over to his own touch stone, Harry, and tried to find that calm center that seemed so impossible to reach, only to find Harry watching him with those brilliant green eyes of his, boring into Draco’s soul.

Harry held Draco’s gaze for what felt like an eternity before Professor McGonagall asked another question of the blond and he looked away. This wasn’t a meeting, it was more of an interrogation, and, while Harry understood the Ministry’s need for information, the fact that they still hadn’t weeded out all of Voldemort’s supporters sickened as well as terrified him. How easy would it be for one of them to sneak up behind Draco and kill him for betraying their cause?

Harry couldn’t care less that that he would die if Malfoy did, it was the fact that right now he was too weak to do anything to help that galled him. Draco was the one who’d killed Voldemort and right now he was simply a liability.


	16. Chapter 16

Draco stalked out of the great hall after the meeting was over, swearing in several different languages. He understood all to well why he would be under suspicion but having that fat toad cast aspersions on Harry just because, because he’d been linked to a Death Eater.

Draco’s shoulder’s sagged. If this was the kind of reception Harry was going to get because he’d become romantically involved with a Death Eater then perhaps it was best for all concerned for the Death Eater in question to just fade into the woodwork. Draco had it on good authority that Bermuda was lovely this time of year.

"So, going to Switzerland are you? Better pack your heavy robes." Harry attempted a smile, though he felt exhausted and knew he looked it too. "And don’t bring back any dairy maids."

"Don’t want any dairy maids. Some Swiss chocolate maybe, if I was going, but I’m not. I’ve just decided, I’m running away to Bermuda. I’d invite you to come but being linked with a, oooooh say a Death Eater, would be rather bad for your golden boy reputation. I promise to send you a postcard though," Draco muttered, wanting to kick something rather badly right now.

Harry’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Hope you have a good time. Don’t burn your arse while you’re tanning."

Draco sighed. "Harry, I’m no good for you. Look at those lunkheads in there and the things they were saying and these are people who _work_ with you. What will the general wizarding world say, what will the Daily Prophet and rags like that print? I’m not worth what they’ll do to you."

"What did you say?" Harry drew himself up, for the moment throwing off the constant aches of the curses that still clung to him to stare at Draco in shock and growing anger. "Do you think I give a flying fuck what any of the think? Hell, they’ve crucified me before, what do I care if they do it again."

"Potter, be reasonable, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you now, you can be an auror, a teacher, hell you could be the minister of magic or an international quidditch star if you wanted. But not if you’re linked to me. I’d only bring you down. I mean, well I’m not suggesting that you lose me completely. I could be your bit of fluff on the side and I’d be a perfect bit of fluff too," Draco finished at an attempt at humor.

"Just like you were reasonable when you snuck off on me, right?" Harry snarled, pushing forward into Draco’s personal space. "If that’s what you think of me, of us, then fuck you, Malfoy."

Snapping his jaw closed before he said something he really regretted, Harry spun on his heel and stalked down the hallway, wanting to find some kind of privacy before he collapsed.

"What? Potter, Harry! Wait up will you? You prat!" Draco yelled and took off down the hall after his lover. He finally caught up to Potter just as the Gryffindor collapsed and barely managed to get close enough to catch him. As it was Draco’s knees hit the cold stone floor with a rather bone jarring, and painful, thud.

"Stupid bloody git," Draco moaned, gently picking Harry up and carrying him to the set of rooms Dumbledore had provided Draco with upon his release from the infirmary. For though still technically Slytherin it was decided that it would be safer for Draco to live ‘houseless’ until graduation. Therefore he had been assigned a small set of rooms near Minerva McGonagall’s and therefore close to the Gryffindor tower.

Striding to his door portrait where a seductive Morgana le Fey purred and licked her lips as he came into view, Draco smiled at the lovely enchantress. "Password, m’lord Dragon?" she leered.

"Carpe Noctum, Morgana," he grinned and she swung herself open. Carrying Harry in past the sitting room and straight to the bedroom, he ignored the Gryffindor’s struggles and dumped him unceremoniously on his bed. "Stay put you stupid sodding Gryffindor, unless you want Madame Pomfrey to slap you back under a soporis!" he growled.

"What the hell were you thinking, Harry? You were dead for fuck’s sake; do you want to end up in that state again?"

"Don’t worry, I won’t cut short your little trip to Bermuda," Harry panted, struggling to a sitting position and glaring at Draco.

"Fuck you, Potter, I was just trying to protect you," Draco snarled, glaring down at his lover. "I figured you’d been through enough you didn’t need to watch the persecution of Draco Malfoy while you were at it. Forgive me for worrying about the person I love more than my own fucking life!"

"For someone who says that you’re trying pretty damn hard to push me away! Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t give a flying fuck what anyone else thinks? I’m worried about you, Malfoy. You. I almost hexed McNair back to the Stone Ages when he went after you and why do you think I did that? Not because I’m ashamed of you but because I fucking love you!"

Draco’s posture softened and then with a sigh he removed his poor and jostled occamy from about his neck and put her into her nest on the night table, then lay down on the bed next to his lover. "We seem to be at cross purposes here. I’m trying to protect you and you’re trying to protect me and we’re both miserably unhappy. I’m not quite sure why you do love me, but thank you," he replied solemnly, his fingers trembling as they ghosted over Harry’s cheekbones.

"You scared ten years off of my life when you collapsed, you know that don’t you?"

Harry closed his eyes and leaned into Draco’s touch, at the same time bringing up his hand and holding the blond’s fingers against his face. "That’s the first time you’ve let me touch you since we’ve been back," he murmured. "And if it scared ten years off your life, they’re off mine too, so we’re even."

"You’ve been so weak and there was that whole being in the infirmary thing," Draco murmured. "I’ve been worried to death about you. Hellfires, Potter, you _died_. Heart stopped beating, blood and hexes everywhere; it was the worst moments of my life.

"I don’t even remember half the things everyone tells me I did, all I remember is holding your lifeless body in my arms and praying for death. If that bloody spell hadn’t of worked I would have, I would have," Draco couldn’t finish the sentence and knew he didn’t have to, that Harry would know what he meant.

"But it worked," Harry said quietly. "That’s what matters. Don’t they realize you’re the one who killed Voldemort? Why are they all being so pig-headed?"

"No, Harry, it was you, he was already dying, I just helped things along, that’s all," Draco replied, pulling the Gryffindor into his arms and gently brushing the messy mop of hair out of his lover’s eyes. Tugging off Harry’s glasses he placed them on the nightstand next to his pet and then levitated a blanket up over them.

"I’m never letting you go again, just so you know," Draco murmured, brushing a soft kiss against Harry’s forehead and the now somewhat faded scar. "You’re just stuck with me now."

"Planning on getting out the spellotape?" Harry mumbled, exhaustion hitting him hard once he began to calm down.

"Whatever it takes to keep you safe," Draco vowed, "now get some sleep. I promise not to go anywhere except maybe to the loo. I’ll have to tell Madame Pomfrey you’re here but I’m pretty sure I can present a good argument for keeping you overnight. Sleep, lover, let me look after you."

Harry yawned and nodded, his eyes already closing. "Don’ forget to feed your occamy. Still have to name her ya know."

"I was thinking of calling her Artemis," Draco murmured pressing a soft kiss to each of Harry’s eyelids. "Only fitting that something as lovely and as," Draco snickered, "perfect as she is should be named after a goddess. Now stop talking and sleep you stubborn Gryffindor. The longer it takes for you to get better, the longer it will be before we make love, got it?"

"Sodding nutcase," Harry murmured, turning toward Draco’s warmth and falling into a dreamless sleep for the first time in days.

"But I’m _your_ nutcase, Potter," Draco grinned, kissing his lover’s lush lips before snuggling in closer for a nap of his own. A put out hissing noise had Draco reaching his arm out to the nighttable so Artemis could slither herself across his arm for a quick trip up to the bed where she curled, content, above Draco and Harry’s heads, guarding her master and his mate while they slept.

~*~*~

Harry woke some time later, he wasn’t sure when as he couldn’t read the clock. Draco was curled up against him, and the occamy snored lightly over both their heads, her quiet hiss a comforting addition to the room.

Grimacing as he twisted, realizing he had to use the toilet _now_ , Harry slid off the bed and hobbled to the loo, leaning against the wall as he relieved himself then headed back to bed.

He climbed in under the quilt and gently stroked a finger over the image on Draco’s forearm, tracing the lines of the dark mark and hating the fact that it was his fault it was there at all.

"You’re thinking so loud that I’m pretty sure they can hear you in the Hufflepuff common room... and their tower is on the other side of the castle," Draco murmured, his silver gray eyes sliding open to look at Harry. Bringing his other hand up, he caught Harry’s in it and brought it up to his lips, kissing it.

"It was _my_ choice, Potter, and I knew what I was getting myself into when I made it. I had no illusions; I went into Voldemort’s camp knowing exactly what would happen and why. You couldn’t have stopped me even had you tried. So stop blaming yourself, okay?"

"I will if you will," Harry answered calmly.

"And what exactly am I blaming myself for?" an eyebrow arched in mild curiosity as he sucked first one then another finger into his mouth, laving them hungrily before moving on to the next digit an the next.

"Apparently, ruining my life." Harry’s voice was growing rougher, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on the way Draco was teasing him.

"Ahhh," Draco drawled, "but it’s easier to say than do, besides, it was my choice to go and it’s apparently my choice again that’s ruining your life," the Slytherin pointed out logically, "therefore it stands to reason that I should blame myself for both events as both events have been caused by my decisions," Draco’s tongue finally finished with Harry’s fingers and began to wend it’s way down his lover’s palm, teasing the soft skin of Harry’s inner wrist with his wicked tongue.

"And are you going to blame yourself for me being alive?" Harry asked, finally giving into his need and tugging Draco in for a kiss the likes of which they hadn’t shared in a month.

"Never," Draco moaned breathlessly. "I’ll never feel guilty about that. Of all the things I’ve done it’s perhaps my most selfish but it’s also the best thing I’ve ever done. You’re a rare and wonderful thing, Harry Potter, and the world would be a much darker place without you in it."

"And they say Slytherin’s aren’t romantic." Harry smiled, reaching up to trace Draco’s lips, wishing they could do more, but already feeling sleep creeping up on him again. "You’re my sun, Draco. There wouldn’t be a world without you."

"Funny, I think that’s what everyone is saying about you right now," Draco chuckled. "Go back to sleep, you delusional Gryffindor, I’ll be here when you wake up," the blond promised, drawing Harry into the circle of his arms once more and petting him until he felt Harry’s breathing deepen into true slumber.

Looking over at the clock, Draco slid out from beneath his lover and sighed. Stroking Artemis’ plumes lightly until she woke up he whispered. "Come and get me when he begins to wake up, will you? I need to get some work done in the sitting room." A hiss of assent and a flick of a tongue across his palm in affection and Artemis wound her serpentine body on the pillow to watch and wait.

Walking into the sitting room, Draco closed the door enough to allow Harry to rest without being disturbed but left a gap for Artemis to get through. Walking directly to the fireplace, he put a pinch of floo powder into it and contacted Madam Pomfrey first to let her know that Harry was with him and was sleeping soundly. Next he contacted Dumbledore and asked if the Headmaster could arrange to have a floo network opened from his fireplace at Hogwarts to the one in his bedroom at Malfoy Manor so that he could retrieve the journals that the Order needed.

Draco had no concerns that those accused of working for the Death Eaters would be able to find them as the Headmaster and Professor Snape had both placed wards and obscurity spells on the Manor making it impossible to detect or find before Draco had gone over to Voldemort. Draco had wanted his mother protected no matter what and this was just part of it. There was also a piece of paper from the Ministry of Magic expressly stating that the Malfoy Manor was clean of all Dark Arts paraphernalia and as the heir Draco now inherited everything under wizarding law.

Which meant no one could enter the manor without his consent and nothing could be confiscated without his knowledge. And even better, since Draco was still a student at Hogwarts all requests must first go through Albus Dumbledore.

After Dumbledore agreed to have the floo connection set up momentarily, Draco summoned his wand and did a quick search and summon spell aimed at Weasley and Hermione. All that done, Draco turned to look at Morgana, his door portrait. "Let me know when Weasley and Hermione Granger arrive, would you? I’m expecting them.

"Of course, Sir Draco," the sorceress smiled coyly.

And then Draco waited.

~*~*~

"Mmm, pretty. Time for a party?" the portrait outside Draco’s door purred at Ron and Hermione when they arrived. "I’ll let m’lord Dragon know you’re here."

When Draco opened the door, Hermione smiled, though her expression was strained. "I think the lot of those ministry officials need to be taken out and switched." She shot a worried look at Ron who seemed unaware of what was going on, then leaned over to give Draco a hug, whispering in his ear. "Percy isn’t doing well at all."

Draco’s face fell. Though he may have lived to insult the Weasley clan for a long time, he and Ron and eventually the rest of the Weasley’s had found a strange sort of détente with Harry as the reason. They all wanted Harry to be happy so therefore if Draco made Harry happy and the Weasleys made Harry happy then Draco and the Weasleys would have to learn to get along. Which they did.

Having no siblings of his own, he could only imagine how Ron must feel and being the one who’d not so long ago been a constant thorn in the collective Weasley children’s side, Draco felt he had no place to say anything, not even condolences. Squeezing Hermione’s arm lightly he nodded and then motioned to the other seats in the living room.

"Sorry about Morgana, she’s a dreadful flirt. I’ve even caught her flirting with McGonagall when your house head walks by," he grinned. "Harry’s asleep in the other room with Artemis, would you mind staying here in case he needs someone? I’ll have to introduce you both to Artemis; she’s in full ‘protect her eggs’ mode even though she’s only a hatchling herself. I guess she figures Harry and I need protecting," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I need to floo to Malfoy Manor to retrieve some things. I shouldn’t be gone long. Damnation, I forgot to contact Uncle Sev to come with me. Dumbledore figures I shouldn’t be going anywhere on my own right now," Draco grumbled. "This is a pain in the arse."

"Having you dead would be an even bigger pain in the arse," Ron answered, trying to act more like his normal self. "If you can’t get a hold of him, I’ll go with you. Might do me some good to get away, and ‘mione can let us know if - if anything changes here."

"Of course," she agreed, praying there wouldn’t be a need.

"I always knew you Weasleys wanted to get a good look inside Malfoy Manor," Draco smirked, wanting to provide a distraction, if nothing else. "But I don’t know if you could handle it, I mean all that elegance and grace and shiny sparkly things, I don’t know if you’d be able to survive the shock. And there’s not a single knitted thing in sight!"

Hermione opened her mouth to chastise Draco but then saw the gleam in his eyes and the subtle quirk of an eyebrow and subsided. There was color back in Ron’s cheeks and he seemed more... alive, then he had since visiting Percy. Maybe Draco had the right idea. "You two, if you’re going to wake Harry up I’m hexing you both. Now introduce me to Artemis and then go, and that’s an order!"

Chuckling silently as Hermione caught on and joined the game, Draco went and fetched Artemis from the bedroom, stating he didn’t want to offend Ron’s delicate sensibilities by making the redhead see his best mate lying sound asleep in Draco’s bed with a look of contentment on his face.

Ron snorted at that. "Sod off, Malfoy. As if you’d be doing anything considering the condition he’s in. Now introduce us to your snake so I can take you to go get your sparkly shoes or whatever it is you need from the palace."

Silently thanking Draco again, Hermione held her hand out for the occamy to smell. She’d been there when Artemis hatched, but she wanted to be sure the winged snake remembered her, though small, the occamy had a dangerous bite.

Artemis flicked her tongue over the hand and remembered the scent-taste of Hermione. This one was a friend. She did the same for the male who had hair the color of some of her plumes and memorized his scent-taste as well. These were both friends, they could touch her hatchlings.

"Bollocks," Ron breathed looking down at the silvery serpentine like creature. "And she’s gonna get to be bigger than Nagini? I’m glad I’m being introduced as a friend so she won’t decide to have me for lunch!"

"Oh please, she has better taste than to eat a Weasley," Draco sniffed. "She wouldn’t want to get indigestion for eating something too commonplace. She is a rare and magical creature, after all," he continued as he went back into the room to replace Artemis on the bed, forgetting to draw the door shut behind him so that the two occupants of the sitting room had a bird’s eye view of Harry asleep on the bed.

Tenderly brushing the black shag out of Harry’s face, Draco ran a soft finger down his cheek. "Sweet dreams, Potter. Dream of you and I and all the things we have time for now. I love you." Brushing his lips across the lightening bolt scar and then his lover’s lips, Draco made sure that the covers were pulled up and Harry’s glasses were within reaching distance before turning. And saw Ron and Hermione staring unabashedly at he and Harry. "Oh bollocks," he groaned. "Not a word. Not one infernal word, got it?"

Ron gave Hermione a ‘would I say anything’ look, and then winced when she stepped on his foot. Hard.

Making a shooing motion with her hands, Hermione gestured them both over to the urn that held the floo powder. "Go on, the two of you. I don’t want to have to explain to Harry what you’re up to if he wakes while you’re gone."

She waited until they’d both taken a pinch of the powder. "Now be safe and no fighting! I want the two of you back here in the same condition you left."

"In Malfoy’s case, that would be sickly sweet, right?" Ron grinned, unable to control himself any longer.

Draco backhanded the redhead in the stomach without malice and then grinned at Hermione. "Yes Mother ‘mione, may we leave now?" he grinned at the Gryffindor, throwing his floo powder down and saying "Malfoy Manor, Draco’s bedroom," quite distinctly before she could get in a parting shot.

Ron groaned. "Should have known this was all a ploy to get me in his bedroom," he muttered before tossing his powder in and repeating Malfoy’s words.

"You’re not my type, Weasley," Draco said dryly as Ron stepped out of the fireplace. "Besides, would _you_ want to cheat on Harry, knowing what he can do?" he continued, arching an eyebrow.

"The reason I wanted my bedroom is because I know the wards placed here intimately and I’d know immediately if someone had tried to breach them other than my mother or the house elves, all of whom are keyed to be allowed in." Heading for the door, Draco looked back over his shoulder and had to chuckle at the way Ron was looking around at the opulence of his ‘child’s’ room. "If you think this is bad you should see my parents’," he casually informed the Gryffindor. "So, are you coming or not. And I don’t mean that sexually either."

"Oh, like I was going to take it that way, crazy git," Ron mumbled, following Draco out of the bedroom, trying to hide his awe at the wealth that surrounded him. Mind, he preferred the homey clutter of the burrow, but Malfoy’s home was grand, he had to give it that.

"So, where’s this stuff of your father’s you have to get?" he asked, fingering his wand as if expecting a hoard of renegade Death Eaters to come charging out of every shadow. "And is your mum around?"

"We’re here to get the papers I was telling Dumbledore about. As for my mother, the minute it was socially acceptable for mother to give up mourning, she was apparating to our villa in the Cote d’Azur in the south of France. Mother has never been fond of English weather. She’s decided to move to France permanently. I may see her from time to time here but Malfoy Manor is simply mine now. I had planned on redecorating and renovating once I graduated but that’s still a few months and my N.E.W.T’s away."

Leading Ron down the grand staircase to the main level Draco turned down one of the many corridors and after a few more turns led Ron into his father’s study. "Do us both a favor and don’t touch anything. My father’s posessions wouldn’t react well. A couple of aurors nearly lost a hand. Just make sure no one surprises us. And don’t Avada the house elves," he admonished as he muttered the appropriate unlocking spell and sat at his father’s desk in order to find the papers and evidence Dumbledore required to substantiate Draco’s claims from the meeting that afternoon.

"Not a problem," Ron mumbled, looking around the office with an expression that combined disgust and trepidation. Merlyn, if Lucius didn’t keep his really bad stuff here, just how bad was his hidey-hole? As he thought that, Ron recalled the spell Malfoy had performed to bring Harry back to life. Necromancy - oh yeah, it was some bad shite all right.

"So is uh, everything okay? With you and Harry?" he asked, distracting himself from dark corners where horrid things such as Weasley-eating spiders could hide.

Draco looked up from where he was sorting through ledgers and papers for a moment. "It’s better than it was, we’re working on it. We have guilt issues," Draco said with a shrug before going back to what he was doing. "So, when are you going to work up the nerve to ask Hermione to marry you?" he rejoined without missing a beat. "She’s just waiting for the question you know, but she won’t wait forever."

Ron turned red, then white. "Whot? Did she say something to you?"

Draco looked up in disbelief and blinked. "Are you for real? No, don’t answer that, of course you are. Weasley, have you even told her you love her yet?"

"Yes! Of course! ‘mione knows how I feel about her..." Ron sputtered to a stop. "I mean, she should. We’ve been together, I mean..."

Draco shook his head despairingly. "Before we leave here we’re going to take a trip into my mother’s rose garden, you’re going to pick Hermione a dozen roses and when you get back you will _tell_ her, do you hear me, Ronald Weasley, _TELL_ her that you love her. Bloody hell man, I’m probably the last person in the world who likes to vocalize his emotions and _I_ have told Harry I love him. Repeatedly. They like to hear it as much as say it. Git."

Ron narrowed his eyes and glared at Draco, but stopped short of actually throttling the bugger, if only because he had a point. Of course, having _Malfoy_ order him to tell Hermione he loved her grated, but this was one case where he could swallow his pride as he didn’t want it to cost him her love.

"Fine, we’ll do that. Oh, and you’re the git if you’re including Harry with the female gender when you’re saying ‘they like to hear it’."

"Oh believe me, Weasley I am _very_ aware that Harry is completely male," Draco smirked with a knowing smile. "You could say I’m intimately acquainted with the knowledge."

Now Ron’s nauseous look was for another reason entirely. "No details, Malfoy, not a single one. Got it?"

Draco mimed sealing his lips while his eyes danced with unholy glee. A few more seconds of rummaging and he had what he wanted, the rest he sent back into his father’s safe and resealed it and added a great number of wards, alarms, hexes and sealing spells to keep it safe.

"Now then, the rose garden for you and the hothouse for me. I think I’ll bring Harry something back as well, to cheer him up. Shall we, Weasley?"

"Best we go together. Don’t want both Harry and Hermione brassed off at me because something happened to you."

"Very well, roses first as they’re heartier and then lilies from the hothouse. You wouldn’t happen to know if he had a favorite species of them would you?" Draco asked as he led the way outside to his mother’s rose garden.

Ron shook his head as they walked out of the office. "No, not that he’s ever mentioned. Why lilies... Ah, never mind, even the dumbest bloke gets the picture sometimes."

"Great Merlyn, there’s hope for you yet!" Draco laughed, clapping Ron on the back. "Now if only I had time to teach you about etiquette, the proper way to woo your loved one and other essentials. Although with Hermione, books would work better than chocolates and she’d probably take a trip to some place bookish over sharing an ice cream at Florian Fortesques. But baby steps are good. Baby steps will keep a dazed look in her eyes while you learn how to walk upright."

"Oi, give the man an inch and he thinks he’s bloody Cupid," Ron sighed. "You tend to your romance and let me tend to mine." He paused, then managed a smile. "But thanks for the advice."

Draco shrugged. "I just don’t want to see you let the best thing that’s ever happened to you slip away. Take it from me, I know of which I speak," the blond shuddered as he remembered those moments in between reaching Harry and when the spell worked only too damned clearly. "Now shall we?"


	17. Chapter 17

It had taken Draco a rather long time to approve every rose that Ron picked and he even took the time to explain why some colors of roses were bad to choose while others were good. Ron had looked at him as if he’d lost his marbles when he explained that one could carry on an entire conversation with nothing but flowers but Draco nonetheless persevered and soon Ron had a very impressive courtship bouquet in his hands.

It had been much easier with Harry, Draco had just picked one of every kind of lily he could until the bunch was almost too big to hold in one hand. That done the pair quickly returned to Draco’s room after re-warding the house and Draco motioned for Ron to go first so he could reset the wards on his fireplace. "And make sure you tell her you love her when you give her the flowers because if you don’t I’m turning you into a toad!"

"In front of you and Harry?" Ron looked horrified at the prospect. "Can’t I at least wait until we’ve got some privacy?"

"You’ll have my sitting room. I’ll take the lilies in to Harry, _but_ I’m leaving the door open to make sure you do it," Draco growled. "Now floo." "Bastard," Ron growled without heat before dropping the powder into the fire and heading back to Hogwarts, well aware his knees were shaking inside his trousers.

Arriving back at Hogwarts a few seconds later, Draco calmly dusted himself off and then threw some floo powder into the flames. "I’ve retrieved what you needed Headmaster, if you could have the floo network closed now?"

"Of course, my dear boy, of course. Come down to my office when you’re ready."

Shooting Weasley a pointed glance, Draco smiled at Hermione and took a lily out of his bouquet, presenting it to her with a flourish. "A small token of my appreciation for staying with Harry. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some lilies to deliver."

"Thank you, Draco!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling over the lily in a way that had Ron realizing maybe he hadn’t been romantic enough.

"’mione... I’ve got something to tell you..."

~*~*~

Hearing the door, Harry stirred, opening his eyes and yawning, then smiling and reaching for his glasses when he saw a Draco-shaped blur approaching the bed. "Sorry, guess I dozed off there for a bit. Everything okay?"

"Everything’s fine," Draco assured his lover, bending to brush his lips against Harry’s. "I brought you something," he continued, holding out the lilies for Harry. "I wasn’t sure what you liked so I brought one of as many as I could carry."

"Flowers? Oh... lilies." Harry reached out to take the fragile blossoms and inhaled their scent. "Thank you." Not quit sure of what to say next, he caught Draco’s hand, pulling him in for a kiss that was interrupted by a yell from the next room.

"Ronald Weasley, it took you long enough!"

Draco chuckled. "Would it be bad form of me to say I told you so to the Weasel?" he asked, a smirk very visible on his lips while he continued to eavesdrop shamelessly.

"But I thought you knew? I mean _I_ knew and there was no one else for me but you and..." Ron trailed off.

"Men!" Hermione sniffed before ordering Ron not to move one inch. Sticking her head around the cracked open door she looked radiantly happy and there were actually tears in her eyes. Looking at Draco she mouthed _Thank you_ and blew him a kiss before saying out loud, "Ron and I are leaving now. Don’t worry we’ll be back to visit later, Harry, and keep you company while Draco goes to Diagon Alley but I’ve got some roses to put in water."

Draco waited until the portrait door shut before bursting into laughter. "Oh please tell me I can say I told you so, Potter, please!"

"Go ahead and say it, I have the feeling you’ll burst otherwise. Might I ask what you’re so smug about other then the fact that Hermione is beaming?"

"The stupid sod still hadn’t told Hermione that he loves her. So I made him pick a bouquet of roses from Mother’s rose garden and told him he had to tell her before they left my sitting room," Draco beamed. "And I was right; she liked the flowers and the git saying the words too."

"But surely she knew... I mean they’ve been together forever..." Harry stopped at frowned when Draco burst into laughter. "What?"

"That’s exactly what Weasley said," he sniggered, wiping the tears of mirth away. "People like to be _told_ these things, Potter, not just assume it’s true.

"For example, how do you feel when I tell you that I love you, I adore you, I would give up everything for you and never regret a single moment, that you are my life and I’d be lost without you?" he murmured, putting the lilies in a water-filled pitcher on a small table nearby so that he could go and lie down next to his lover. "And it’s true, you know, every blessed word."

"It’s a little over the top, but that’s you, Malfoy," Harry smiled, shifting over so that Draco had more room on the bed. "But it feels good. Just like it feels good when I tell you I love you."

"There you have it, now you see why I insisted he tell Hermione? People need to hear these things every so often, and not just have to assume them," Draco replied in lofty tones. "Now, I have half an hour before I need to report to Dumbledore’s office, wanna snog?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows playfully.

"You may want to say hello to Artemis first." Harry nodded at the serpent who was fluttering her tiny wings, raising half her length off the pillow. "After that, snog all you want."

"Now how could I ever forget my beautiful goddess," Draco smiled, stroking along the occamy’s back and letting her tongue flick against his skin in welcome. Artemis moved to curl around Draco’s wrist for long moments and then released him and half fluttered half slithered off the bed to go explore her rooms again and maybe catch a mouse or two, leaving Draco and Harry alone.

"We should maybe introduce her to Hedwig while she’s still young enough she won’t try and eat her," Draco suggested as he snuggled down next to Harry, looking at him carefully.

"Your color is much better and there doesn’t seem to be as many circles under your eyes. Shall I have Madam Pomfrey send your medicines up here and tell her you’re staying the night?" he suggested. Of course he’d prefer Harry to stay permanently; however, the teachers might frown upon such a thing as setting a bad example for the remaining students. Not that Draco cared a whit about them right now; all he wanted was for Harry to keep getting better.

"You may want to _ask_ her, not _tell_ her or she’s sure to say no," Harry commented wryly. "But if she says yes, I’m all for it. You can even promise her you’ll make sure I drink all my potions. Merlyn, I swear Snape dipped his old socks into some of them just to spite me!" He grinned at the last.

"If he was trying to spite you, Potter, he’d have had Longbottom make them for you," Draco laughed. "Snape just doesn’t believe in mollycoddling students by making things taste pleasant. A potion," Draco’s voice took on the imperious tones of Severus Snape, "is not a treat, it is a magical device meant for higher purposes then to tickle the taste buds. If you want to feed those sniveling little brats chocolate to make them feel better than do so but do not think for a moment I will compromise the quality of my potions just to add a bit of sugar to make them taste better!" he finished with a decided sneer before collapsing on the bed in a fit of laughter.

"I love him very much but he really can be a pretentious and overbearing prick, can’t he?"

"If you think I’m going to disagree with you on that subject, you’ve got another think coming. Now hurry up and get permission so I can kiss you silly before you go need to meet Dumbledore or I fall asleep again."

Harry actually growled at the last. "I’m so ruddy tired of being tired all the time. I can’t _do_ anything and it’s driving me starkers."

"Potter, you are the most stubborn git I’ve ever met," Draco sighed in fond exasperation. "You fought the most powerful dark wizard in who knows how long, matched him spell for spell, killed him, died, and then came back from the dead. The very fact you’re up and walking around is a miracle in and of itself. Personally, I’m just thankful that you’re breathing and not a vegetable! Now give your body and your magic a chance to recover, will you?"

Shaking his head, Draco went back into the sitting room to speak with Madam Pomfrey and then returned a short time later, potions in hand. "Apparently Dumbledore already told her where you were, she was just waiting for one of us to contact her to send the potions. She’s included a dreamless sleep potion that she wants you to take before falling asleep tonight, but don’t try and wait up for me. If you get tired, take it. I’ll be here when you wake up, all right?"

Harry eyes the various bottles with distaste. "Yes, Nanny Draco," he sighed. "I’ll be a good little wizard and drink all my potions before bed." He paused, then smiled wickedly. "If you tell me a bedtime story."

Draco groaned. "You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Despite my supporting Dumbledore and you lot, I am _not_ a good wizard, Potter. I’m a very, very bad wizard. I want to do very, very bad things to you and you’re still recovering and I’m trying to be noble but that’s like expecting a Gryffindor to think first and then leap into the fray."

"Compliments like that will get you nowhere. Fine, Malfoy, I’ll behave so you don’t have to strain your conscience with worry about injuring me or some such rot. We can have a civilized conversation - to whit; did you find everything you needed to at the Manor?"

"Why as a matter of fact, Harry, I did. Thank you for asking. Conversation done, shut up now," Draco growled as he lowered his head to ravage the idiot Gryffindor’s mouth thoroughly, leaving them both panting and breathless when he was done.

"And if I tell you a story I won’t be in any respectable condition to go meet with Dumbledore. Can you just picture it, ‘um, no, Headmaster, that isn’t a firecracker in my robe, I just spent the past half hour telling erotic night time stories to my boyfriend and now I’ve got a woody.’"

Harry snickered at that description and slid a hand between them to cup Draco’s groin. "Well, I could make sure you were... exploded before you left. Wouldn’t want Dumbledore offering you a mint to relieve your state, right?"

"Potter, I adore you, truly I do, but if you dare speak of Dumbledore and sex in the same sentence ever again I _will_ be moving directly to Bermuda, alone!" Draco groaned and then groaned for another reason as Harry began to massage his rapidly responding prick.

"Harry should you be... oh that’s bloody brilliant! But you really shouldn’t... oi, what’re you... oh bollocks!" Draco cried out as Harry’s mouth wrapped around his cock, making him lose all coherent thought.

Harry grinned around the thick flesh, shifting downward to get comfortable and not strain anything. He wanted to concentrate on Draco, not his own aches and pains. Pulling back, he smirked and placed a kiss on the head of Malfoy’s cock. "It’ll give my throat a good coating so those potions taste better," he murmured before diving in again, taking up a slow rhythm of sucking and licking.

"Merlyn, I’m reduced to a pre-potions chaser," Draco muttered but nonetheless fell back on his elbows to enjoy the sensations that Harry was providing.

"And you have a problem with this?" Harry muttered, letting his lips slide over the head of Draco’s erection.

Draco gurgled unintelligibly and managed to shake his head in the negative before he was reduced to mindless whimpers of need. His hips began to thrust up and down of their own accord and he tried desperately not to slam into Harry’s mouth but it had been so long and, well, he _was_ a horny teenager.

Closing his eyes and relaxing as much as possible, Harry rocked with the motion of Draco’s hips, stroking his hands along the Slytherin’s thighs as he felt the tension growing in him.

Draco’s hands reached to card through Harry’s hair and he stroked his fingers over his lover’s cheek, feeling his erection moving in and out of Harry’s mouth through the soft skin he found there. It was by far the most erotic thing he’d felt in an age.

"Soon, when you’re better, I’m going to make slow love to you, Potter. It’s going to take all day. I’ll start with kisses, and then nibbles and then touches and I won’t leave an inch of you unexplored. I mean it, all bloody day!" Draco groaned, fighting the urge to buck his hips upwards.

Harry shuddered at the thought and murmured his assent around the thin skin under his lips. He felt a tremor of desire shoot through him, but either Madame Pomfrey’s potions or lingering exhaustion caused his cock to do little more then twitch.

The tiny murmur against him was more than enough and with a hoarse cry Draco was filling Harry’s mouth with his seed as his fists clenched a little tighter and his body arched a little higher off the bed. "Harry, oh merciful maker," he gasped before sagging back into the mattress, his hands releasing their death grip on raven hair in order to take Harry by the shoulders and pull him upwards.

Kissing him hungrily and tasting himself in Harry’s mouth, Draco sighed and softened the kiss until he was simply nibbling on his lover’s lips. "Soon, love, when you’re better," he finally whispered, holding Harry tight.

Harry smiled and nipped at Draco’s jaw line. "Tell Snape if this is a side-effect of one of his potions, I’m going to strangle him."

Draco chuckled but wisely kept his mouth shut on the subject of Harry’s, umm, lack of wood. "I’d best shower before heading to the headmaster’s office," he sighed, looking down at a warm and sleepy Harry in his bed. "Who the hell needs sleeping beauty when I’ve already got the prince in my bed?" he murmured, brushing his lips across Harry’s forehead. "Sleep, love. I’ll be home as soon as I can."

"Fool," Harry murmured, smiling.

~*~*~

"I’m better, I don’t need any more potions and I’m _not_ going to lie around any more while everyone else is out there risking their lives! It’s been a month; I’m recovered. Now you can give me something to do or I’m going to go out and find something to do and you know how that usually ends up!"

Draco sat, sprawled, in one of Dumbledore’s chairs watching the scene with some amusement. He’d known this day was coming, what with Harry becoming more and more restless while he, Ron, Hermione and the others worked on the clean up and aftermath of the battle.

Most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up but there were still a few out there. The corruption in the ministry had been rooted out and purged and the Dementors had been done away with. And Harry had been left on the sidelines, growing more and more frustrated and annoyed all the while the others did something.

"My dear boy," Dumbledore began, looking at Draco for help and then sighing as the Slytherin sat there, gray eyes dancing with unholy mirth and a definite ‘I told you so’ expression on his face. "Haven’t you done enough, Harry? You killed Voldemort, you died in order to do so, and you lived for years under his shadow. The wizarding world owes you a great debt; why not let them pay it?"

When he saw the stubborn set to Harry’s jaw and the ever widening smirk on Draco’s face, he knew he was beaten. "Very well then, Harry, you may study for your N.E.W.T’s and pass them with flying colors _and_ ," he continued, holding up a hand to forestall any protest, "you may assist Draco, Ron and Hermione in the dismantling of a number of Death Eater strongholds we have captured. There are curses to be removed, hexes to be destroyed and wards to be brought down. Leave the rest of the Death Eaters to the aurors and Remus. For now at least. Does this satisfy you?"

Harry started to grouse about the word ‘assist’, but bit his tongue, deciding it was better then being stuck back in Gryffindor or worse, in the infirmary again. "Yes, sir. So does this mean classes are going to start up again?" What with many students still at home with their parents and part of Hogwarts being used as a sort of command central for the Order, there hadn’t been any regular classes for over a month, and Merlyn knew when the N.E.W.T’s were going to be held.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, most of the younger students should be coming back this weekend, so regular classes will begin again on Monday." He looked at the two boys sharply. "Which you both will be required to attend as well as Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger if you would pass the word onto them. Your ‘extra’ activities will be confined to the hours after class."

Draco groaned, earning a sharp glance from Dumbledore. "Not to be rude or anything, Headmaster, but when exactly does that leave us time for such minor things as, oh, eating, sleeping and homework?" he asked ever so politely, _not to mention shagging my boyfriend!_ he thought morosely.

"You are intelligent young men," Dumbledore twinkled, "I’m sure you can figure something out."

Once they’d been excused and were back in the hall outside the now closed stairway to Dumbledore’s office, Harry groaned. "He tells me to take it easy, then piles all that on us. What is the man thinking? Maybe we can find that Time Turner ‘mione had in third year..."

"The man is thinking if we’re exhausted enough we won’t be shagging every five seconds like the horny teenagers we are. He’s trying to curtail our sex life," Draco sulked. "It’s a conspiracy, I tell you! If it’s not Weasley and Hermione stopping in for a friendly visit, it’s Pomfrey checking up on you, or McGonagall making sure my wards are safe, or Snape wanting to discuss my father’s other library, or you having to be in Gryffindor for a meeting. It’s a bloody conspiracy!"

Harry would have laughed at Draco’s put out expression if the blond’s words hadn’t matched his own thoughts exactly. "And I expect I’ll be back in Gryffindor this weekend along with everyone else." Honestly, he had been surprised that the headmaster had let him stay with Draco as long as he had.

"You know what we both need?" Draco’s leer spoke volumes, and Harry chuckled. "Well, other then that. Let’s grab our brooms and a snitch and go at it. Might not be quite what we want, but I doubt it’ll get interrupted."

"And maybe we can spot a place where we can hide out and go at it in a whole different manner!" Draco grinned happily. "And you know what the worst part is? I just _know_ that the Weasel is getting more action than either of us. There is something so wrong with that, really!"

Grabbing Harry’s hand Draco tugged his lover along as he walked extremely briskly along the hallways, making sure to take the lesser-used corridors to avoid teachers and students and other busybodies intent on interfering in his and Harry’s lives.

"And how do you _know_ that?" Harry asked as they scooted outside and toward the broom shed. "Have you been spying?"

"Oh please, Weasley howls like the hound of the Baskervilles in heat when he comes, I’m surprised you and McGonagall slept through it!" Draco snorted.

"Aha! You have been spying!" Harry gloated. "And of course I can sleep through it; I sleep through his snoring, don’t I?"

"I was merely passing by the Gryffindor tower on my way to the kitchen for a late night snack," Draco replied haughtily before grabbing his broom. "Last one to the quidditch pitch has to be the bottom for a week when we get our sex lives back," he laughed as he hopped on and bolted out the door, racing skyward.

Cursing, but realizing it didn’t really matter who won, Harry snagged his Firebolt and threw himself aboard, hurtling after Draco and joining in an impromptu game of tag in the sky.

~*~*~

Draco lay in the middle of the quidditch pitch, his head pillowed on Harry’s stomach, laughing breathlessly. "I can’t remember the last time that quidditch was this much fun. It’s rather a pleasant change not to have it all be a deadly game of house loyalties and what not. I suppose Slytherin will have to forfeit the remainder of its matches. We don’t have much of a team left after... well we’ve lost two chasers, two beaters and who knows if they’ll want a traitor for a seeker and captain."

"You aren’t a traitor," Harry said quietly, stroking Draco’s white-blond hair back off his forehead. "Sad to say, but I doubt anyone who would think that will be back at all."

Trying to cheer Draco, he chuckled. "Well, at least you’ll have a reason for Slytherin losing the rest of their games, not excuses like usual."

Draco flipped on to his stomach and growled before crawling up Harry’s body. "You only won the last game by ten points, Potter, and the only reason you did is because I took a swan dive into the ground."

Harry winced at the memory. "Yeah, there was that."

"Oh, don’t be such a drama queen, Potter, I only had a few cracked ribs, a broken wrist and a mild concussion. It wasn’t like it was anything serious," Draco laughed bending to kiss Harry’s lips.

"You wouldn’t happen to have your invisibility cloak anywhere where it would be easy to accio it would you?" he purred after long moments. "After all, they can’t interrupt us if they can’t see us."

"We hope," Harry sighed, squirming under Draco’s weight to reach his wand before spelling his cloak to the pitch and flipping it open over both of them. "So," he murmured, sliding his hands downward to cup and knead Draco’s arse, "who won that race over here?"

"I’d say it was a bloody tie," Draco groaned, burying his face in Harry’s neck. Kissing his way to his lover’s mouth he grinned down at the Gryffindor. "Seeing as how it’s your first time since recovering I’ll do an uncharacteristic thing and let you decide. Tonight is Gryffindor’s choice."

"Mmm, I seem to recall you saying something about making love all day long, but we really don’t have the time for that now, so perhaps I could have you?" Harry suggested, rolling them over so that he was looking down at Draco. "You see, I’ve got a lot of energy stored up."

"Well, that sounds promising!" Draco laughed, tugging Harry down for a long kiss even as his hands began to strip his lover’s clothes from his body. "An energetic Gryffindor, what a novel concept, I wonder if I’ll survive it?" he teased.

Harry smirked; his hands busy undoing the buttons of Draco’s shirt and pushing it open. "Not if I have anything to say about it." He leaned in, licking at the sharp nubbin of Draco’s nipple through the white fabric of his undershirt, then nipping at it when the Slytherin groaned.

"At least I’ll go with a smile on my face," Draco chuckled, his hips bucking up against Harry’s even as he tugged off the Gryffindor’s now loose tie and put it around his own neck while he slid the white dress shirt off of Harry’s shoulders. "Bloody hell, you look good enough to eat!" he groaned.

"Ah ah ah," Harry murmured, transferring his attentions to Draco’s other nipple as he worked to undo the other boy’s belt and trousers. "I’m the one who gets to do any eating tonight, Malfoy, and I must say, you look good in red and gold."

"Just wait until I get you in green and silver. The green will bring out your eyes and the sliver will look stunning against your hair," Draco replied with a moan, arching up into Harry’s ministrations. "Oh Salazar’s ghost, it’s been so long, don’t tease too much or I won’t last," he admitted at last.

"Mmm, can’t have that." Harry pulled back to tug off Draco’s undershirt, then his own clothes and finally the ‘Slytherin’s pants and boxers, leaving him clad only in Harry’s tie. "Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat tried to put me in Slytherin?"

"No, you never did. Obviously it changed its mind since you’re the golden child of Gryffindor," he sneered, his eyes dancing, "leader of the wonder trio and savior of the world, not to mention the youngest seeker in a century," the Slytherin continued, his eyes dancing. "I must remember to thank the worthless rag the next time I see it, at least this way I got to be a seeker as well, not to mention the fact that I got to spend six years making your life miserable instead of having to put up with you," he teased.

"Actually," Harry murmured, rocking down against Draco’s bare body and feeling the blond wrap his legs around his hips, "it didn’t put me there because I begged it not to. The thought of spending all that time with you made me positively ill, but look at us now."

"Indeed, you’ve turned a pureblood Slytherin Prince into Harry Potter’s personal love slave, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So why don’t you stop remembering the bad times and remember to take me instead?" Draco grinned, using his legs to tug Harry forward against him even as his hands tangled in raven black hair to pull his lover down for another kiss.

"And see if I can make you yell as loudly as you say Ron does?" Harry murmured, licking his way over Draco’s mouth before pulling back, remaining hunched over the blond to keep the cloak over them both.

He grabbed his wand and ‘accioed some lubricant, warming it in his palm before sliding his fingers back between Draco’s arse cheeks and pressing one inside the tight entrance to his body.

Moaning, Draco stuffed some of the cloth of his robe in his mouth and bit down on it hard. When Harry quirked an eye at this he spat it out and groaned. "If you make me wail like a banshee on the quidditch pitch we’ll either have the teachers come running or people will swear it’s haunted and never play another game here again. Personally I really don’t want people to see me with your prick up my arse. We might make Weasley lose his supper," Draco grinned.

"You don’t want to be known as Moaning Malfoy?" Harry snickered, adding another finger to the loosening muscle and kissing Draco hard to keep from being bitten.

"And be compared to your last girlfriend? I don’t think so," Draco sniffed, referring to the fact that Moaning Myrtle still seemed to have a crush on Harry, even after all this time. "She was probably quite upset with me for bringing you back so you couldn’t be her ghostly boyfriend," Draco continued, jealousy creeping into his voice.

"Even if I’d stayed dead and become a ghost, I would hope I found somewhere other then the girls’ loo to haunt," Harry grinned, twisting his fingers and shivering when Draco writhed beneath him.

"Oh Hades! Enough talk about girls’ loos. It’s been bloody _forever_ Potter! Do something other than stick your fingers up my bum will you?" Draco whined, his body on fire and needing more, so much more.

"Greedy git," Harry whispered, drawing his hand back and coating his own shaft before settling between Draco’s thighs and pressing inward, biting his lip to keep from groaning in pleasure as he sank deep within the blond’s body.

"Heaven, it’s bloody heaven," he whispered, beginning to move, wanting to make this last for both of them.

"Oh Merlyn and Morgana!" Draco moaned, his eyes falling shut as Harry slid inside him and then started to move. "Oh bloody hell, it’s, missed this, missed you!" he muttered, his head tossing on the ground and his hips thrusting up into his lover’s body.

"Harry, Salazar, please!"

"Love you," Harry breathed, leaning in to bite and suck at Draco’s exposed throat, needing to mark the pale skin there as a reminder that they were both alive. Reaching between them, he found and circled the Slytherin’s erection, knowing he wasn’t going to last long as he _needed_ too much, and wanting to bring Draco over as well.

Moaning constantly, his eyes glazing over, Draco thrust up into Harry’s hand which in turn drove the Gryffindor’s cock even deeper into him which set of more sparks of arousal in him. "Oh Merlyn, oh hells, oh HARRY!" Draco screamed as his hips bucked upwards one last time and his cock spat gout after gout of semen in between their writhing bodies.

"Yes..." Harry gasped, the feel of Draco spasming around him bringing him to the edge and hurtling him over into sweet oblivion.

Once his vision cleared and he could breathe again, he lifted his head, shifting just enough to get his hand from between them. "I was wrong, you can be known as Draco Malfoy, the Screaming Slytherin - it has a nice ring to it don’t you think?"

"You’re such a prat, Potter," Draco sighed but without any heat, before nuzzling at Harry’s neck. "And do you really want the rest of the school to know that I can be made to scream by nothing more than a cock up my arse? You might have to share me if that ever got out."

"No." Harry answered calmly, though the heat in his eyes at the notion of it was sudden and fierce.

"Mmm, good answer," Draco purred, pulling Harry down for another kiss. "I love it when you get jealous and possessive like that, its one hell of a turn on. Too bad even I can’t spring back this quickly or I’d have to take you and remind you that we belong only to each other."

Harry pulled back, the pendant he always wore dangling from his neck and resting on Draco’s chest. "I don’t need any reminding of that, but when you decide to do it, let’s try it in a bed - I don’t have the wardrobe you do to stand the grass stains."

"Remind me to take you shopping for clothes when I’m finally allowed out of my jail cell again," Draco replied, reaching for his wand and muttering a quick cleaning spell. "I suppose we’d best head inside before they send out the search parties. Do you really have to go back to Gryffindor tower tonight? I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep without you next to me now."

"Well," Harry said as he eyed his lover’s appearance, kissing Draco a final time before starting to set his clothes to rights, "you could always come back to Gryffindor with me. I still owe you those forfeits."

"I don’t think Weasley would appreciate coming down to the common room and finding you arse up in the air and me plowing a field, so to speak," Draco smirked. "But it would be amusing to see his reaction."

"Oi, like I’d do that right out in front of God and everyone." Harry shook his head, tempted to wallop Draco for saying it. "The offer still goes though - to stay in Gryffindor."

"That would be rather like venturing into enemy territory but, I’d rather sleep with you than without you so lead the way, Potter," Draco replied, smirking inwardly. He really did have to get Potter over the back of the Gryffindor couch at least once, just to be able to say he’d done it.

"You faced Voldemort, you can face Neville in the morning," Harry chuckled, waiting until Draco was dressed before flipping his cloak back off of them, neglecting to bring up the fact that Malfoy was still wearing his tie.

"We need to collect the brooms, then I promise you a good night’s rest."

Draco snorted. "Dream on, I might not be able to get it up now but give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor. Besides I rather fancy the idea of making a dorm full of brave and fearless Gryffindors stammer and blush like Hufflepuffs caught in the nude."

"Merlyn, I’ll need silencing _and_ motion concealing charms on my bed, won’t I?"

"Ruin all my fun, why don’t you?" Draco pouted.

Harry snorted and smacked the blond on the arse. "Saving my house mates’ sanity more likely."

"Well then, problem solved! Gryffindors are anything but sane so you have nothing to worry about do you?" Draco smiled beatifically and then took off at a run, wanting to distance himself from Harry’s wicked hand.

"Prat!" Harry yelled, grabbing his broom and hopping aboard, towing Draco’s after it and flying leisurely circles around the Slytherin. "A bit slow there, are we, Malfoy? Need a lift?"

"Oi! That’s cheating, Potter," Draco growled, accioing his broom back from the Gryffindor and hopping onto it. "And here I thought you Gryf’s were supposed to be noble and brave and honest and all that drivel!"

"We are, this is what happens when we pal around with Slytherins too much," Harry laughed, shooting forward and executing a showy turn around the broom shed before landing.

Not to be outdone, Draco shot in after him and matched the turn and landed directly in front of the shed. "At least you’re finally associating with a better breed of people, I was beginning to despair of you," Draco replied with an airy wave of his hand.

"Just beginning? I thought that happened first year," Harry said, opening the door and hanging his broom up with the rest of the Gryffindor team’s. "And look who’s talking, Mr. Nobility himself."

Draco chuckled. "No need to get insulting now, besides you’re just sore because I’m more gorgeous than you are and can get away with so many things."

Harry leaned over and patted Draco’s arse as he put away his broom. "You sure you aren’t the sore one?"

Draco purred and leaned back into the touch. "Hells no! I’m the well-used one. Something you Gryf’s can actually do well, sodomize a Slytherin," he teased.

"I’ll ask Dumbledore to change the house motto," Harry snickered, sliding his arm around Draco’s waist as they walked back to the castle.

"Oh I’m sure your house mates will love that one! Weasley might puke his guts up, not to mention the rest of your house. And McGonagall, can you imagine her face when she hears of the proposed change in motto?" Draco began to laugh.

"Be a true Gryffindor, sodomize a Snake. I like it."

"I can see the parents reactions now when their precious little eleven year olds write home for the first time, ‘Dear Mom and Dad, I got sorted into Gryffindor, we have to sodomize snakes!’" Draco rejoined dryly.

Harry stopped walking and leaned against Draco’s side, laughing o hard his legs became week. "Well better that then the new Slytherins, ‘Dear Mom and Dad. I got sodomized today!’"

"Oh please, if you’re going to do it, do it right, ‘Dear Mother and Father, was sorted into Slytherin as per your life plan for me. Underwent my first rite of initiation into Slytherin house. Please send lubrication charm as I foresee many such initiations to follow, your dutiful little Slytherin.’"

By now Harry was laughing so hard he was on the ground again, his eyes welling with tears.

Draco looked down at his lover with a superior smirk on his face, an eyebrow quirking much like Snape’s had done from time to time. "Really, Potter, do you have any idea how ridiculous you look down there. Perhaps someone hit you with a jinx and you didn’t know it."

Still giggling, Harry swiped out an arm and tumbled Draco to the ground beside him. "I think it’s called the Malfoy jinx; lots of sex and then riotous laughter."

"So glad to be of assistance," Draco sniffed and then proceeded to dust himself off. "And look, you’ve made me all dirty!"

Slowly regaining his composure, Harry clambered back to his feet beside Draco. "I hate to tell you, Malfoy, you were dirty before this, you just hadn’t noticed."

Draco looked at Harry in mock horror. "You mean I was about to walk into Hogwarts looking like a strumpet who’d just been tumbled in a field," Draco grinned even as he cast a quick cleaning charm on his clothes and tried to straighten his hair as best he could. "Well at least be a gentleman and let me borrow your cloak’", will you?"

"You don’t like looking as if you’ve been well-shagged?" Harry asked innocently. "I think its quite endearing."

"You would," Draco chuckled. "It’s not your arse that’s got dirt permanently embedded into it ."

Harry sighed. "Fine, here you are, take it." He held out the cloak and looked toward the school. "No need to worry about anyone seeing you looking less then perfect."

"You seemed bloody intent on getting me to walk in all dirty, don’t tell me grime turns you on?" Draco laughed falling in step with Harry.

Tipping Draco’s chin up to kiss him again, Harry pressed the cloak into hi hands. "When I look at you and can remember how it got there, it ruddy well does. I was just looking forward to seeing everyone’s expression when you showed up in the common room wearing my tie."

"Oh. Oh! Well then how about we go back to my room so I can shower and change and you can put your tie back on me and then we can go to your common room." Draco suggested with a smile. "After all it’s not your tie I’m objecting to; it’s the grass in my bum."

Harry waggled his eyebrows. "Size queen, are you, Malfoy?" he asked, catching Draco’s hand again so they could walk inside together.

"You know what they say, once you’ve tried Pot..ter you can never go back!" Draco laughed.

"If you’re smart."

"You make it sound like a question!"


	18. Chapter 18

Draco sauntered into the Gryffindor common room behind Harry, wearing a loose dress shirt and the Gryffindor tie hanging around his neck, looking for all the world as if he weren’t entering the hallowed ground of his former enemies.

"Nice couch, Potter," he smirked, looking pointedly at Harry.

Harry felt himself blush, though any response he might have made was cut off by the whispered comments of the other Gryffindors.

"Malfoy," Ron asked, his voice squeaking up an octave as it hadn’t for several years, "do you know you have a Gryffindor tie on?"

"Why yes, Mr. Weasley, I do know I have a Gryffindor tie on, but thank you ever so much for pointing it out to everyone else present," Draco smirked, turning to ‘model’ his new apparel before sprawling on the couch and crooking a finger at Harry. "Ooh, and it’s a _comfy_ couch, too, Potter. Springy and bouncy with lots of padding. I think it’d damned near perfect for... sitting on."

Seeing Ginny turn away so as not to laugh in his face, Harry groaned. "And I thought this was a good idea?"

"Why my darling, dearest love, you practically _pulled_ me all the way to Gryffindor in the need to show off my new apparel to your housemates," Draco smirked as he reached up and pulled his lover down onto his lap, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist.

Turning to the other Gryffindor males in the room Draco positively beamed. "So, Weasley, Longbottom, Finnegan. Do you think gold and red suit me as well as they do Harry?"

Ron backed away, shaking his head wildly. "I don’t believe it. I simply don’t believe it," he muttered before finally hiding his face against Hermione’s shoulder."

Harry was tempted to do the same, but instead grabbed his tie and mimed throttling Draco with it.

"Well, Harry, it’s not that much different from seeing the two of you in one bed in the infirmary," Neville piped up, causing most of the rest of the common room to gawp at him.

"Mr. Longbottom, I do believe that my godfather seriously underestimated you for the past six years. You have really come into you own. Kudos to you," Draco said with a sincere smile. "I have a feeling that he’s not going to be the only one set on his arse once classes resume."

Hermione placidly patted Ron on the head and tried desperately not to snigger at the remaining Gryffindors. Nothing like putting a fox in a henhouse to liven things up, she thought with amusement.

Neville straightened his shoulders and looked around. "I figure what’s Professor Snape after seeing you-know - Voldemort in action - but don’t tell him that!"

Unnoticed by the others, Colin Creevy pulled his camera out and snapped a shot of Hogwarts most infamous enemies sitting with each other.

"Oi, Colin, I want that film!" Harry called, finally relaxing and slinging an arm around Draco’s shoulders.

"Why you dirty perv you, if I had known you were into _that_ I could have cast a spell I know," Draco said loud enough to have most of Harry’s male chums squirming in repulsed agony and some actually squealing in disgust.

"Don’t worry, Longbottom, I wouldn’t dream of telling him that. Besides, why do you think that he never fazed the Slytherins? We figured that out back in first year. He’s all talk and detention but as he said about someone near and dear to my Slytherin green heart, if he had really despised you, you would have been dead a long time ago and none would be the wiser."

Neville paled slightly, but nodded.

"Any more questions?" Harry called. "I mean, how often do we have a tame Slytherin in our midst?" He canted his head to the side and flipped the tie he was wearing out of his jumper so everyone could see it was silver and green.

"Tame, my arse, Potter," Draco snorted, "I’ve just been lulled into a good mood by hordes and hordes of mind blowing nookie is all."

"Hmmm, and here we heard Potter was too weak to do much of anything this past month. Giving your hand a workout were you?" Seamus called.

"Who said anything about this past month, Finnegan? I was talking about tonight," Draco replied with a blasé tone. "Isn’t that right my little Gryffindor love god," Draco purred, nipping on Harry’s ear and wrapping his arms around his lover’s stomach, holding him tight.

By now most all of the males in the common room were gagging and Harry wondered if slapping a silencing charm on Draco was out of the question. Finally, deciding that groaning would just egg Malfoy on more, he squirmed and looked back at Draco adoringly. "You were magnificent my silvery sex monster."

"Damn straight I was, you Slytherin sodomizer you."

At that point there was a mass rush as the majority of the Gryffindors decided it was safer _anywhere_ else then their common room.

Harry looked around at the few who were left and shook his head. "Never say Draco Malfoy doesn’t know how to play to an audience."

Draco burst into laughter and hugged Harry close. "Oh, that was bloody brilliant! It was better than Christmas and Halloween and summer break all rolled into one. They _scurried_ , Potter, _scurried like scared little rabbits about to get thrown into a stew pot_! Oh I think this has been one of the most perfect days in recent memory!"

"Oi, you’re delusional, both of you," Ron whimpered, still hiding behind Hermione while at the same time trying to cover Ginny’s eyes.

Draco laughed all the harder to the point where tears actually rolled down his cheeks and he had to bury his face in Harry’s neck to try and calm down.

Ginny swatted at Ron’s hands. "Hey, leggo! It’s not like I haven’t seen guys snogging before, Ron, I mean I walked in on Charlie and his significant other in the bathroom the last time they were home for Godric’s sake. I saw my brother _naked_ and doing things to another naked man, can’t get much more traumatic than that!"

"I dunno, you could have walked in on Ron and Hermione..." Harry began only to give a shout of surprise when Hermione levitated a pillow straight into his face.

"Really, Hermione, we should be awarded sainthood for putting up with these two, don’t you think?" Draco smirked and then chuckled at Hermione’s immediate agreement.

"Harry James Potter, you have a filthy mind. What makes you think that Ron’s even..." Hermione huffed.

"Even what?" Harry asked innocently, jabbing backward with an elbow to hit Draco’s ribs when he started to answer.

"Even seen me naked," Hermione finished in a rush, her face turning red.

Everyone else in the room turned and looked at Ron who was as red as his hair.

Draco couldn’t help himself. "You know, it’s a funny thing, I was taking a walk one night a few weeks ago and I happened to pass by the fat lady and I swear to Merlyn, I heard the hound of the Baskervilles howl. The fat lady jumped about a foot in the air and looked quite put out she’d been woken out of a sound sleep."

Somehow, Ron turned even redder and Hermione looked as if she’d swallowed a pickle.

"Enough, Draco," Harry murmured, looking back at the blond, "or I’ll tell them about the screaming ghost of the quidditch pitch."

"You ruin all my fun, Potter pooper," Draco sulked and then pointed to Ginny who was on the floor howling in glee. "She finds it funny!"

"I think she’s laughing at Harry’s comment," Ron grated out.

"Now, now everyone play nicely, we’re all heroes of the war," Harry sighed. "And if you don’t, I’m going to have an immediate relapse."

"Ooh, does that mean I get to pamper you in bed again?" Draco cooed, nibbling on Harry’s ear. "Which reminds me, early day tomorrow which means early to bed. Lead the way love of my life."

"I’m going to die of sugar shock," Ron moaned. "I think I liked it better when they were sniping at each other!"

"It’s sweet!" both Ginny and Hermione shot back.

"And on that happy note, we’re off," Harry added, getting up from Draco’s lap and pulling the Slytherin to his feet as well. "Tell Dean, Seamus and Neville not to worry, I’ll stuff a rag in Malfoy’s mouth so he doesn’t get too loud."

"Oh please, Potter, you’re the screamer, I’m the groaner, remember? Draco snarked back, his hand going to fondle his lover’s arse as they climbed up the stairs, knowing full well that Weasley was watching.

"Yeeuuuuch! Harry, making him stop playing with your bum, will you? It’s indecent," Ron whined.

"Oh wait, is that the hound of the Baskervilles I hear whimpering?" Draco purred, looking over his shoulder straight at Ron.

"I’m going to Baskerville his arse if he keeps it up!" Ron growled under his breath, sending Hermione and Ginny into torrents of laughter again.

Once they’d made it to the safety of the seventh year dorm, Harry wagged his finger in Draco’s face. "Terrorizing innocent little Gryffindors, Mr. Malfoy, shame on you."

"Why Mr. Potter, haven’t you figured it out by now? I have no shame," Draco smirked as he quickly stripped out of his shoes, socks, pants and y-fronts, leaving him clad only in his school shirt and Harry’s tie.

"I want to fuck you on your up until now chaste Gryffindor bed while the rest of Gryffindor hides in terror of ‘Dragon’ Malfoy in their midst," Draco purred, stalking towards Harry with a predatory gleam in his eye. "I want the bed to shake and I want them to hear you moan and scream and beg for it, however to protect your delicate sensibilities I will cast a silencing charm around the bed just for you."

"How considerate of you," Harry rasped, his mouth going dry at the hunger in Draco’s eyes and the sight of his nearly nude body. "That’s the first time I’ve heard my bed described as hallowed before though."

"Oh, please, it’s where the legendary Harry Potter rests his golden head, how could it not be considered hallowed ground?" Draco teased, moving in closer. "Bed, now, Potter, and since they all look alike you’d best point out the right one or Finnegan might come back to find us shagging on his sheets."

"Then you’d be responsible for his heart attack," Harry laughed, stripping off except for Draco’s tie and dropping his clothes on the trunk at the foot of his bed. "And it’s this one, note the golden glow around it."

"Shall I prostrate myself before I climb into it?" Draco retorted though his eyes were busily devouring the body laid bare before him.

"Naw, but you can kiss my foot if it makes you feel more worthy."

"Prat," Draco snarled without heat before tackling the raven-haired teen to the bed. "And I’d rather kiss your arse anyhow. You made the most interesting noises when I stuck my tongue into you the last time. Now make yourself useful and cast your little silencing spell before I’ve got you so mindless with lust you forget to. Wouldn’t want to shock tender little Gryffindor ears with your potty mouth would we, Potter?"

Harry growled without heat before reaching for his wand and casting every silencing and obscuring charm he knew on the curtains. "And what about Artemis?" he asked, nodding at the occamy who had slithered down from her usual perch around Draco’s shoulders to curl on the pillow beside them. "What about her tender ears?"

Artemis propped herself up on her forearms and cocked her head to one side making Draco laugh. "Well you could always ask her yourself, you _are_ a parselmouth, after all. Or have you forgot you can speak to serpents and serpent-like creatures?"

"She’s your pet," Harry pointed out before sighing and asking the occamy to curl up on his trunk for the time being, enjoying watching Draco’s eyes darken as he hissed out the words.

"But she listens to her other ‘papa’ as well, Potter, and oh Salazar, do that again," Draco shivered, reaching out to pet his way along his occamy’s spine. "I know you’re in a strange place with strange people, lovely but it’s best if you don’t bite anyone. You know Ron, if you feel overwhelmed you might want to go say hello to him, all right?" the blond suggested, slightly worried at what the other Gryffindors might do upon spying an occamy in their room.

"They won’t try to hurt her, will they?" he whispered to his lover. "Maybe we should ask Hermione to watch her or..."

"Draco, they’ve seen her with you, I think they know she’s fine - and you’re more dangerous," Harry smiled, tickling Artemis under the chin and ruffling her feathers while listening to her answer.

"She says she’ll be fine." Harry pushed open the curtains so that Artemis could slither off the end of the bed and onto his trunk. "It looks like Hermione sent Crookshanks to watch over her too.

"Now then, I think we were discussing how much parseltongue turns you on..." Sitting up, Harry brushed his lips over Draco’s ear, hissing out exactly how good the Slytherin made him feel.

"Harry!" Draco groaned, trying to be scandalized. "Our baby can hear you say those naughty things to mee... oh Merlyn," the blond shuddered. "Only one way to shut you up I guess," and with that Draco dove in, sealing his mouth over Harry’s and, capturing the Gryffindor’s hands, pinning him to the bed.

When he at last broke the kiss he looked down into Harry’s passion flushed face and grinned. "Do you trust me?" he purred, rubbing his erection against Harry’s.

"Silencing charm, remember?" Harry murmured, arching upward and sliding a leg up the back of Draco’s thigh. "And of course I trust you, are you planning on doing depraved, perverted things to me?"

"But of course," Draco purred, slowly pulling the Gryffindor tie off from around his neck. Taking his time, making sure Harry knew exactly what he was doing, the Slytherin bound his lover’s hands together and then using his own school tie fastened the now bound hands to the headboard.

"You’re at my mercy, now, Potter," Draco smirked as he peeled his dress shirt off and draped it over a bedpost. "I can do whatever I want to you and no one will hear you scream. But where to begin?" the blond mused, surveying his ‘playing field’.

Harry squirmed, tugging experimentally at the bonds before stilling and licking his lips. "Why do I think I’m going to enjoy this?" he asked.

"Because you’re a gorgeous slut of a man and you’re all mine," Draco replied promptly before bringing one of Harry’s feet up to his mouth and beginning to kiss his way up Harry’s instep, his tongue tracing patterns on the sensitive flesh as he passed over it.

Leg muscles quivering as he struggled not to pull his ankle out of Draco’s grasp, Harry moaned, discovering erogenous zones he never knew he possessed. "Oi, I’m gonna end up back in the infirmary after this, I know it."

"But what a way to get there," Draco purred, the vibrations of his words transmitting through his lips to Harry’s flesh making the Gryffindor squirm and giggle. Moving further up, Draco laved at Harry’s ankle, nipping it and then soothing the sting with his tongue. He slowly worked his way up as much of Harry’s leg as he could in this position and then switched legs and did the same thing to the other one, making sure to take his time and explore every ounce of flesh he could.

"Didn’t I promise you I’d spend all day making love to you? Well okay, it’s all night but still, plan on taking some pepper up potion in the morning to get you through the day, Potter. You’re not getting any sleep tonight," Draco smirked.

Harry actually whimpered as he squirmed, trying to get Draco closer to his cock. "Forget the infirmary; it’ll be straight to St. Mungo’s for me."

"But I promise to come visit you every weekend and make sure you receive some of my very special treatments," Draco purred, nuzzling Harry’s balls before laving them with his tongue.

"Are you trying to keep me in there for good?" Harry writhed on the bed, pulling his arms taut against the bindings holding them.

Draco raised his head and smirked at his lover. "I wouldn’t want you to complain about our sex life becoming staid and boring, love of my life," Draco purred, lapping at one testicle before finally relenting and sucking first one and then both into his mouth, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.

"Any - anything but," Harry laughed breathlessly, moaning loudly as Draco suckled on his balls, tugging and lapping at them while Harry twisted on the sheets, helpless.

Chuckling softly, Draco finally released his mouthful and began moving up Harry’s torso again, nuzzling his way through raven pubic hair to lick and sample his lover’s abs. Dipping his tongue into Harry’s navel Draco spent long moments paying special attention to the indentation before once more moving upwards, this time stopping at Harry’s nipples to bite and lick and suckle and tease.

"Draaaacoooo..." Harry moaned, twisting upwards, trying to rub his erection against the blond’s stomach or leg or anywhere. "Evil man..."

"Did I ever claim to be anything but?" Draco asked, quirking an eyebrow and smiling wickedly. "I may have chosen Dumbledore’s side but that doesn’t make me a _nice_ person, Potter. Not even the love of the savior of the wizarding world could do that," he continued, pinning Harry’s body down with a leg lock spell and his thigh.

"And you’re the one who said you trusted me. Foolish, foolish Gryffindor. We Slytherins know just how to torture you lot."

"You love me," Harry said confidently. "Your torture is the good kind."

Draco’s eyes softened and he slithered up Harry’s body long enough to kiss his lover senseless before working his way back down Harry’s neck, leaving no less than three hickey’s on the Gryffindor’s neck for the world to see.

Deciding to cut the begging teen some slack, Draco abruptly changed positions, kneeling above Harry’s head and then, supporting his weight on his arms, taking his lover’s cock into his mouth while his own dangled enticingly above Harry’s lips.

Craning his neck, Harry strove to get a taste of Draco’s shaft, growling when he missed because the Slytherin was driving him insane with lust. Wrenching his shoulders but not caring in the least, he managed to close his lips around the head of Draco’s cock, humming at the taste as he fell back to the bed.

Chuckling, Draco lowered his hips slightly, allowing Harry better control and continued to suckle on the Gryffindor’s shaft, wanting to taste him again and then fuck him so hard that Harry would be walking funny and sitting gingerly the entire next day, constantly reminded of Draco’s claiming.

It was frustrating not to be able to hold onto Draco’s hips or touch him at all, but Harry made the best of it, when his lover’s skill allowed him to think at all that was. Their earlier lovemaking had taken the edge off his need, but Draco’s skills soon had him feeling it again, whining around the flesh he serviced.

Feeling his own need building again, Draco slipped his cock from out between Harry’s lips and, shifting, moved around so that he was once more lying between Harry’s legs staring up at his Gryffindor while he nursed.

"Draco!" Harry protested, trying to sit up, but once again foiled by the knots binding his wrists. "Want to touch you too..."

Draco shook his head in negative and kept nursing, wanting to watch Harry come apart from just his mouth on the Gryffindor’s cock. Perhaps then he would consider releasing his lover but until then... Draco’s eyes lit with unholy glee and he redoubled his efforts to make Harry come.

"Bastard." Giving in to the sensations, Harry threw his head back and closed his eyes, bucking up into Draco’s mouth and letting himself ride the pleasure, the need drawing knife-sharp along his veins.

Draco couldn’t help but chuckle at Harry’s disgruntlement. Did the Gryffindor honestly think that Draco was anything but? True he’d been sappier than usual and had been all sweetness and light for a while but that was out of worry for Harry and the first thrill of loving. While he was willing to admit he had changed, and for the better, he was still sarcastic, snide and, as Harry said, a bastard by times.

Shuddering when Draco chuckled around his erection, Harry twisted upwards, and, with a low shout, came, gasping for breath as he thrust into Draco’s mouth.

Drinking Harry down as rapidly as he could, Draco nevertheless couldn’t retain all of the other student’s seed and rivulets ran down from the corner of his mouth as he continued to lap until Harry was soft. Finally releasing Harry’s cock, Draco surged up and claimed his lover’s mouth even as his fingers fumbled at the ties, releasing them at last.

"God, finally," Harry gasped, pulling Draco to him and kissing him hungrily. "Fuck me, Malfoy," he purred, nipping at Draco’s lower lip.

"With pleasure, Potter," Draco replied, returning the love bite even as he accioed the lubricant from the pocket of his trousers, thanking the deities that inanimate objects could pass through the wards on the bed.

Slicking himself up, Draco pulled back and then flipped Harry onto his stomach, pulling at his hips until the other youth got the message and knelt on the bed. Without so much as a finger up his arse to prepare Harry, Draco pushed himself inside, nipping along Harry’s spine until he was suckling at the base of the raven-haired boy’s neck. "Merlyn, I’ll never get enough of being buried balls deep inside of you. You’re fucking amazing!"

Breathing through the abrupt claiming, Harry rested his forehead on his hands, willing himself to relax until he finally began to move back against Draco’s thrusts, groaning at the love bites and the pleasure-pain they caused.

"And you’re an amazing fucker," Harry laughed breathlessly, pushing up and back until he was splayed out on Draco’s lap, his head leaning back against the blond’s shoulder.

"I aim to please," Draco growled, nipping at Harry’s ear as he began to thrust up into the Gryffindor, his hands splayed on Harry’s hips. "Who’d have thought, Harry Potter, the best fucking lay I ever had," he muttered dirtily into Harry’s ear before nibbling the lobe. "And the only person I’ve ever made love to in my entire sordid sexual life."

"Only one you ever will too," Harry answered, turning his head to capture Draco’s mouth and circling his hips in counterpoint to the blond’s rhythm, clenching his muscles around Draco’s cock, wanting him out of control.

Groaning harshly, the movement of Draco’s hips sped up and one hand slid around to wrap itself around Harry’s cock as he began to thrust harder and harder. Panting harshly in Harry’s ear, he buried his face in the crook of his lover’s neck as sweat poured and the bed rocked and creaked under the swaying of their bodies.

Amazed at finding himself getting hard again, Harry lowered a hand to cover Draco’s, twining their fingers together as they both jerked him off, his other fingers pinching and twisting his own nipple, making him whine and plead for Draco to give him more.

Biting down on Harry’s neck hard enough to draw blood, Draco slammed up into the warm heat bearing down on him, fucking the Gryffindor for all he was worth. "So. Fucking. Amazing. Perfect. Love," Draco ground out as he pounded into his lover until with a last bellow he came, flooding Harry with his seed.

Howling as Draco marked him, Harry came as well, his nearly dry orgasm leaving him shaking and limp in the Slytherin’s arms. "Love you," he sighed, shifting them both to their sides, not caring that he couldn’t drum up enough energy for a cleaning spell.

"The feeling is very mutual, Potter. Now go to sleep, despite my teasing I want you well rested and healthy enough to return to class," Draco ordered, pressing a soft kiss onto the Gryffindor’s shoulders before muttering a cleaning spell and a slight healing spell so that Harry wouldn’t have difficulty sitting in the morning.


	19. Chapter 19

"Harry. _Harry!_ Oh shite... _Finite Incantatum._ Harry, you need to get up. You too, Malfoy."

"Huh?" Harry automatically reached for his glasses, but found his arm pinned by a still sleeping Draco Malfoy while outside the bed curtains Ron continued to hiss at him.

"C’mon, Harry, Dumbledore’s called a meeting, all the seventh years are supposed to go."

"Now?" Harry asked plaintively before nudging Draco with his free arm. "Time to get up, sex god. Duty calls."

"Bugger, what time is it?" Draco yawned, scratching his head and slithering out of bed more asleep than awake to come face to face with a red-faced group of Gryffindors.

"Umm, Draco?" Ron squeaked in a high falsetto. "You’re, um, well you’re..."

"You’re bloody starkers is what you are!" Seamus yelped.

"And from the sounds of it you’re all having a grand old time staring at my bits and pieces. Like what you see, boys?" Draco smirked before sticking his head back between the curtains. "Harry, where are the Gryf showers? I don’t care what Dumbledore wants, I’m not going anywhere without a shower first."

Scrambling for his glasses and accioing them both pajamas from his trunk, Harry thrust a pair at Draco before pulling on some himself. "Come on, I’ll show you so you don’t frighten anyone else to death," he sighed; giving his dorm mates a pointed look when he climbed out of bed as well. "What?"

Dean snickered. "You look like someone tried to play connect-the-dots on your neck, Potter."

"No question as to who that someone was," Neville murmured.

"Ignore them, love, they’re just jealous because you’re getting quality sex on a regular basis and all they have to relieve themselves in their own hands," Draco smirked, winking at Neville.

A short time later both were sitting in Dumbledore’s office showered and rather put out at being woken up after only a few brief hours of sleep. "What was so urgent, headmaster, that it couldn’t wait until a decent hour of the morning?" Draco drawled, unaware of just how much he sounded like Snape at that particular moment.

Dumbledore smiled benignly. "Nothing life-threatening, Draco." He looked around the office at the seventh-years gathered there, then at the teachers. "We’re simply concerned about all of you having enough time to study for your N.E.W.T’s, what with everything that’s occurred this year. Do drink your tea, all of you, and have a cinnamon bun."

"They aren’t for another month though, right?" Harry asked, wondering with some trepidation if he’d gotten the dates wrong and they were tomorrow.

"Headmaster, with all due respect, N.E.W.T’s seem a little redundant right now, don’t you think? I mean we fought in a war, performed as well, if not better than fully trained aurors and have had to learn things that none of the previous graduating classes have had to, simply in order to survive," Draco pointed, not caring that Hermione was trying to glare him into silence. ( "However, if you feel you must make us take the tests, what do you suggest we do? Delay them? Spend the summer at Hogwarts? I for one have plans for my summer that don’t include classes and hours of study. Especially not towards the end of July. I don’t even plan on being in England at that point in time."

A lively debate started at that point between the students as to which option was the best, but Harry had only heard Draco saying he wasn’t planning on being in England - if not there, then where?

McGonagall cleared her throat, causing silence to fall in the room. "As it has been pointed out, the situation of this year’s graduating class is quite unique. To acknowledge this fact, your N.E.W.T’s have been modified. Many of you will find that in some cases, you will not have to take the exams at all. You have proven yourselves capable wizards and witches and the Ministry agrees."

She waved her wand and rolled up scrolls appeared before each student. "Here is a listing of the examinations you had elected to take and how your efforts in the war have modified them."

"Bet Potter doesn’t have to take any at all now," a Ravenclaw grumbled.

Draco shot the Ravenclaw a deadly glare. "Tell you what, you have a dark wizard trying to kill you since you were an infant, have to live with disgusting muggles, have nearly everyone you love hurt or killed just because of who you are and then ultimately have to face off against said dark wizard and _die_ in order to keep the world safe so gits like you can bitch and moan about your ‘N.E.W.T’s and then you can comment. Until then shut your hole." The ‘or else’ dangled precariously in the air like the sword of Damocles about to fall and Draco was just itching for the know-it-all to open his mouth again.

"Easy, Draco," Harry soothed, resting a hand on the Slytherin’s arm, stroking his thumb over the inside of his elbow to calm him. "He’s just mouthing off is all, doesn’t worry me." He quirked a sardonic smile. "And by the size of my scroll, I doubt I got out of anything at all."

"We are _not_ spending the summer in school, Potter. I have plans for us that involve sun tan oil and a decided lack of clothing, neither of which is conducive to the Hogwarts environment," Draco informed his lover loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Dumbledore looked amused, McGonagall faintly outraged, Snape resigned and from the variety of retching sounds, some of the students weren’t pleased either. Draco didn’t give a dragon’s fart what they thought but the reactions amused him to no end.

Taking his own scroll he looked at it carefully. Apparently he’d be here for a bit himself. "Charms, Transfiguration and the History of Magic? You’ve got to be kidding me," he groaned, not at all impressed. "Well I’d better bloody well be done by no later than the 15th of July."

"Wonder what’s so important that he has to be done by then?" Ron murmured to Hermione who just rolled her eyes.

"Harry’s birthday, idiot!" she whispered. "He’s got the Malfoy millions at his disposal and he want to take Harry away and spoil him rotten I suspect. And about bloody time someone does that too!"

With a certain amount of trepidation, Harry opened his own scroll. "History of Magic and... Potions?" he groaned. "I didn’t even want to take that one! "Hold on, what’s this about suntan oil and lack of clothing?"

"You’ll see," Draco smirked. "And I’ll help you with Potions and we can study History together. How are you at charms and transfiguration?" the blond asked, sighing.

"Do we have to wear robes and uniforms in the summer, Headmaster? After all we’ve practically graduated except for the ‘N.E.W.T’s listed on our scrolls."

"I believe we can make some exceptions, within reason and decency. No running around with suntan oil and a distinct lack of clothing until you’ve left Hogwarts, Mr. Malfoy. That goes for you as well Mr. Potter. Now if that’s everything?"

Hermione raised her hand. "Can I still take all my N.E.W.T’s even if I’ve been exempted from them?"

"Yes, you may, Miss Granger."

Harry leaned closer to Draco to answer his question. "Better get ‘mione to help with the Tranfiguration, and as for Charms... I beat Voldemort with one, didn’t I?"

"Very true," Draco purred. "But I think I will need a great deal of personal, in depth tutoring. Just to make sure I pass, of course. I suggest we get started immediately. My room would be best, it’s quiet and there would be no interruptions."

"And then people are going to wonder just why you failed abysmally at Charms but were grinning the whole time."

"But what a way to go!"

~*~*~

"Did you _have_ to invite the whole of Gryffindor seventh year, Potter?" Draco whined, looking around his sitting room at the sprawled bodies. "Granger and Weasley I could have understood. I could even have understood Granger, Weasley and Longbottom but... this is your whole dormitory!"

"We wanted to make sure you two were studying and not shagging," Seamus called from where he was going over Herbology notes.

"And, as good friends, they were determined we’d pass our N.E.W.T’s," Harry sighed, shaking his head fondly. "So what first, Malfoy? Charms or Potions or..." He shuddered. "History of Magic."

"How about none of the above," Draco muttered. This was _not_ how he had envisioned studying for his stupid NEWT finals. "I need to feed Artemis, does anyone have any live mice? She only likes them fresh."

Even the chorus of ewwws and ‘gross’ and retching sounds wasn’t enough to make him crack a smile, however as he was suddenly reminded that this was a room full of Gryffindors and he was a Slytherin and had this been the year before it would have been...

"Excuse me," he muttered and as quickly as dignity would allow fled into the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind him.

"Oi, what’s up with the Slytherin Princess?" Ron sighed, only to be promptly hit on the head with a pillow by Hermione. And then by Parvati and Lavender. And finally by Ginny who was there to help them all with history.

"I’m surprised he’s been able to do as well as he has up until now, I mean, considering..." Ginny trailed off.

"That’s because he’s had Harry and the Order to distract him but now it’s business as usual," Parvati replied.

"Not that your business as usual, Harry, just that you’re comfortable now," Lavender chimed in.

"Do you think we should see if he’s okay?"

"What the bloody hell are you bints babbling on about, now?" Seamus finally interrupted only to be elbowed in the solar plexus by Ron who was growling at Seamus and warning him not to call his girlfriend, his sister or their friends bints.

"Men," Hermione sniffed. "You’re so bloody stupid by times. Look around, what do you see?"

"Umm, the lot of us studying?" Dean offered.

"A room full of Gryffindors who’ve been friends since the beginning of school and he’s only here because Harry loves him while all his friends he’s had since the beginning are dead or in Azkaban receiving the Dementor’s kiss," Neville replied quietly.

"I take that back, _Neville_ isn’t stupid," Hermione beamed at the quiet Gryffindor.

Cursing himself roundly for his insensitivity, Harry looked around the room and made a decision. "All right, the lot of you, out of here. Take it to the library or somewhere else please, I’ve got some groveling to do."

"Mind you do it well," Parvati commented as the rest of the Gryffindors began gathering up their books and notes.

Once they were gone, Harry walked over to the closed bedroom door and knocked softly. "Everyone’s gone, mind if I come in?"

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your study party," Draco replied in a hitched voice from where he lay on the bed, his back to the door. "I didn’t want to spoil it, I just..." Draco’s breath caught in a sob and he angrily scrubbed at his eyes. "I’m being a bloody sodding idiot is what I’m being!"

Shaking his head and feeling like a total sod, Harry walked over to the bed, climbing in behind Draco and wrapping his arms around him. "I’m the idiot, not you. It’s just, it’s so easy to forget how it was before. You lost a lot of friends and I was an idiot not to remember that." He’d lost friends too, but not his entire _year_ of housemates.

"You’re a Gryffindor, what do you expect?" Draco tried to joke but failed miserably. "I know they were rotten Voldemort loving Death Eaters, well some of them. Others were just scared and others really believed but, well I may not have liked a lot of them but we were family, the only family any of us had while at school.

"It’s not like the other houses ever really paid us any mind other than to snipe at and ridicule us, and before you say it I know we’re part of the reason that the isolation existed but, they were all I really had until I found you, this year," the blond confessed, not even bothering to wipe away his tears anymore as he rolled over and curled into Harry’s chest.

"I’m sorry," Harry whispered, stroking Draco’s hair and feeling the hitches in his back as he cried. He didn’t know what else to say or what he could do, nothing would bring back the Slytherins or fix this.

"Nothing for you to be sorry about," Draco replied promptly, trying to wipe his tears and stop sniffling and bawling all at the same time. "They made their choices and so did I. All I can do is live with it now, and the memories. Sorry I’m being such a nancy-boy, it’s bloody embarrassing really."

"I can be sorry if I want, I’m the savior of the wizarding world, remember?" Harry asked, trying to coax a smile from Draco. "And who’s calling you a nancy-boy? I know I’ve cried enough to qualify as one that’s for certain. I’m - I’m just glad you allow me to be here."

"I love you, you stupid git, as if I’d want anyone else with me when I show an embarrassing lack of restraint and proper Malfoy manners. I mean I’ve got a reputation to uphold for everyone else but you. I don’t have to pretend around you, do I?" Draco smiled. "And I thought we’d agreed, no more guilt-fests for the Boy who lived, then died, then lived again?"

Harry dipped his head to kiss Draco’s tear-stained face. "You don’t have to pretend at all, not any longer. As for my guilt-fests, I’m allowed if there’s reason, and offending your sensibilities with a hoard of ravening Gryffindors is reason I’d say."

"Slobbering horde maybe," Draco giggled, pressing a kiss to Harry’s chest before getting up. "C’mon, nervous breakdown avoided. Let’s get this studying over with and get these bloody tests over and done with so we can get on with the rest of our lives, yes?"

"Gryffindors do not slobber," Harry stated, highly offended. "We swallow."

~*~*~

"They’re over, right?" Harry whimpered, collapsing on the common room couch and covering his eyes with his arm. The Potions N.E.W.T. had been nightmarish and he supposed he should be thankful he’d been given credit for Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA as just studying for two of the blasted tests had been enough to liquefy his brain.

The door to the common room swung open and Draco managed to stagger in before collapsing on the couch next to Harry. "Flitwick is a bloody dark lord in disguise!" the Slytherin grumbled. "That was beyond torturous and I don’t even want to speak on Transfiguration. Why in the blazes did I agree to take six ‘N.E.W.T’s is beyond me!"

"Because you didn’t want to let Hermione crow at you about her eight - which she took all of?" Harry offered, shuddering at the last.

"That’s because she’s certifiable and a candidate for St. Mungo’s while _I_ plan on living a long and healthy life outside of padded walls," Draco groused.

"Well, at least it’s over. Even better, I’ve talked all the house heads into allowing the graduating class to hold a party to celebrate end of exams. Without chaperones," the blond cackled evilly. "Apparently we’ve been given permission to use Grimmauld Place in London? Dumbledore said you’d know exactly where it is, love."

Harry nodded, his expression turning forlorn for a moment. "It was Sirius’ house, its mine now I suppose. The Order met there before things came to a head. I suppose we need to find a way to get Mrs. Black’s picture down off the wall or she’ll be shrieking at everyone all night long. She was your aunt or something, right? Maybe you can cajole her."

"The woman was a crotchety old bat. However if you want me to keep her quiet you’ll have to let me do it my way," Draco grinned, looking forward to bullying the portrait into submission. "No interference, Harry, all right?"

"There’s not much you can do to her. She’s a bitch, but in some ways she’s all that’s left of Sirius.""’...

"No burning to a crisp. A little singeing maybe but that’s it, I promise," Draco grinned.

Harry sighed but it was combined with a laugh. "We’ll hear her screeching all the way at Hogwarts."

"Hey, you can take the boy out of Slytherin but you can’t take the Slytherin out of the boy!" Draco laughed. "C’mon it’ll be fun!"

~*~*~

Draco drunkenly stumbled into the room he was sharing with Harry, ready to pass out on the bed, but stopped short when he realized his lover already occupied it.

"Bloody hell, that was one hell of a party!" he laughed, falling onto the bed next to Harry. "I really had fun!"

"Mmm?" Harry mumbled, opening his eyes and blinking owlishly as he’d already removed his glasses. "Mmmm, Malfoy. Come here and give us a snog." Saying that, he reached for the blond, pulling him close and giving him a sloppy kiss.

Draco laughed woozily. "You’re really cute when you drunk, you know that?" he grinned, snuggling up against his lover. "Potter, when our grades are posted, you wanna go away together? You know, take a trip, maybe someplace warm and isolated, just the two of us?"

"Somewhere with suntan oil and not many clothes?" Harry asked, even as he pulled Draco up to eye level so he could kiss and lick and nip at the other youth’s face. "With you? Sure."

"Good. It’s settled then," Draco grinned, and promptly fell into a drunken sleep.

"Draco. Draaaacooo..." Harry crooned, running his hands over the blond’s back and sides, then down over his arse, trying to get some response from him. "Draco? Oh fuck."

~*~*~

"And you thought they wouldn’t do it." Harry smirked as he tapped the Order of Merlyn First Class medal pinned to Draco’s dress robes, then looked over at the identical one Snape wore. "Never underestimate Gryffindor stubbornness."

Draco snorted. "Bloody silly piece of tin," he replied but nonetheless was rather pleased that it looked so good on him. He was more pleased to see one pinned on Harry’s chest, however, as he deserved it more than anyone.

"Can you believe this is it? We’re graduating. No more Hogwarts, no more classes with Snape and Flitwick, no more Slytherin vs. Gryffindor on the quidditch pitch, no more ghosts and no more Peeves. I can’t believe it but I think I’m going to miss the bloody place."

Harry nodded, sobering. "Strange as it sounds, it was the first place that really felt like home to me, of course now I can say anywhere with you is home, or is that too mushy?"

"Of course it is, but I love you anyway," Draco smirked, bumping his hip against the Gryffindor. "Now shut up and listen to Dumbledork’s closing speech to us so we can matriculate and get on with the rest of our lives," he whispered.

"Oh, by the way, want to live together? I’ve got this whole big, moldering manor to renovate and redecorate. Besides, I kinda like the constant sex and I’m used to you sleeping beside me."

In answer, Harry caught Draco’s hand and squeezed it, smiling at the blond Slytherin before turning his attention back to the Headmaster’s admittedly rambling speech.

Draco took the answer as a yes and grinned, turning back to the commencement ceremony. Resting his head on Harry’s shoulder, he slowly tuned Dumbledore and the ceremony out, pulled by inner reflection. Memories flittered across the surface of his mind, the first time he and Harry met, the Sorting Hat, Potions, Quidditch, trolls in the dungeon, adventures in the dark forest, being an absolute prick, being a prefect. This school had wrought amazing changes on all who survived to see this day.

Those that had were the ones who had not merely followed the path carved out for them but who had forged their own. He looked around at his new friends, the lone Slytherin amidst a sea of Gryffindor red and gold. His father would be turning in his grave, but his mother beamed proudly from where she sat with the other parents. He couldn’t wait to introduce Harry to the real Narcissa Malfoy, and have Narcissa meet the person he was planning on asking to marry.

Hogwarts had done that for him, had given him a _real_ family, not the family he’d been born too. It had loved and nurtured him, put up with his temper tantrums and his nastiness and had slowly made him into a man that _he_ was proud to be. And most importantly, Hogwarts had given him Harry.

"I love you, Harry James Potter," he murmured, knowing that he still didn’t say it nearly enough for the Gryffindor, but deciding that right now, this moment, was the perfect time to say it again. "I’m going to love you forever, just so you know."

Wondering just what had brought on the seldom-heard words, but not minding in the least, Harry let go of Draco’s hand to slip his arm around the Slytherin’s shoulders. "Love you too, Draconis," he murmured, turning his face to brush a kiss across Draco’s brow and almost toppling the other teen’s pointed hat off his head. " _You’re_ my family now."

"Damn straight I am," Draco grinned. Forever was looking really good right now.

_**Epilogue** _

"Harry, are you ready yet? The portkey’s arrived," Draco shouted up the stairs as he shrank down the rest of the luggage and lightened it before shoving the tiny trunks into his haversack. Sticking his wand in his back pocket, he turned to look at himself in the mirror that hung over the fireplace in the hallway.

"Stop preening, you peacock, if he loves you all hot and sweaty he’s gonna love you in that hideous shirt," the mirror sniped, sounding remarkably like a Snape ancestor.

"Keep it up and I’ll put you across from the portrait of Black’s mother in Grimmauld Place and then you can spend eternity listening to her shriek and shout obscenities," Draco threatened without heat.

"Who are you threatening now?" Harry laughed, brushing his still damp hair back off his forehead as he loped down the stairs. Seeing Draco, he stopped in his tracks and whistled. "Nice look for you there, Malfoy, tropical prince, I think it’s a keeper.

"Now Remus is keeping Hedwig and Snape has Artemis, any thing else we’ve forgotten?"

"You’ve owled the Weasley’s with our itinerary and threatened them within an inch of their lives if they actually interrupt us?" Draco replied and then stuck his tongue out.

"I was informing this pompous mirror that if it kept talking I’d hang it across the hall from Mama Black, if you must know. I still have my father’s dark arts library; you make a comment about my wardrobe again and I’ll use it, I swear!" Draco threatened without any real heat. The very fact that he was dressed up like this was proof that he’d do anything for Harry, even look like an arse.

"She’d probably get along well with the mirror," Harry sighed, "it being ‘quality’ and all. And I like the way you look." He bit his lip to keep from snickering at Draco’s bright flowered shirt. "I’m going to enjoy the way you look when I strip if off and fuck you through the mattress more though."

"Okay, we have to leave _now_ ," Draco whimpered, his blood heating and his cock filling. "That was bloody unfair, I want to say fuck the vacation now and have you fuck me over the hallway table."

"Oooh, baby! Does that mean I get a show?" the mirror crowed from where it hung. "Wahoo, I get to see _Mahstah_ Draco get reamed literally as well as figuratively at long last!"

"Shut it or you’ll find yourself hung in Azkaban," Harry growled to the mirror before kissing Draco lingeringly. "Portkey, Malfoy. Let’s get out of here, Bermuda awaits."

Draco smiled and picked up the palm frond, which was on the table he’d mentioned being fucked on, and held it out to Harry. "Ready when you are, Potter!"

~*~*~

Leaning back on his hands and watching the sun vanishing into the turquoise waters of the ocean, Harry smiled. He was worn out, a bit sunburnt and waterlogged, but, on the whole he couldn’t remember being happier.

Glancing up at Draco who was sitting on a rock nearby, he drank in the other teen’s looks for a long moment, the hunger that had been banked since their arrival on the island and the flurry of discovery as they explored the house they’d rented for their two weeks here and the beach beyond it flared to life again.

"It’s almost as if everything that’s happened is a dream," he murmured.

Draco turned and smiled at Harry, his whole face lighting up. "Would it be entirely too sappy and very Gryffindorish of me to say that every day with you is like a dream?" he asked, moving off the rock to sit down next to his lover and resting his head on Harry’s shoulder. "You’ve always been my dream, even when I didn’t think I could have one."

Harry slipped his arm around Draco’s shoulders, holding him close. "Funny, I would have thought I was your nightmare and have said likewise about you. Now though..." He smiled, and turned his head to kiss Draco’s temple. "I won’t tell the world you have Gryffindorish tendencies if you don’t tell them I have Slytherin-like ones."

"Sod off," Draco replied affectionately with a slight push to his lover’s chest. "Everyone knows that being Slytherin is what people should aspire to be, Gryffindors are just so... so... _common_ ," he continued with a fake sneer and a haughty sniff. "You should have been so lucky to get sorted Slytherin. But I’ve forgiven you that character flaw because you’re a wicked hot shag and damn hot in bed."

"The thought of being sorted Slytherin is what keeps little children awake in their beds at night, shaking with terror," Harry snickered, toppling Draco over so that his head was pillowed in Harry’s lap. "Though from my experience they do have damn good sexual appetites."

"Actually it’s the Slytherin sexual appetite that keeps parents awake at night which is why they’re so terrified of their children being sorted into my house. They don’t want their children to become sexual deviants and sex addicts... well unless one’s parents were in Slytherin themselves and understand full well the _benefits_ of being sorted into Slytherin.

"This, of course, is why parents fill young children’s heads with terror stories about being sorted into Slytherin. They don’t want their innocent little wizards and witches to turn into raving sex gods and goddesses," Draco smirked. "But aren’t you lucky that I lowered my standards and decided to shag a Gryffindork?" the blond continued, blowing on Harry’s crotch before mouthing the twitching fabric teasingly before backing away to rest his head on the other youth’s thigh again.

Harry snorted loudly, squirming a bit as the heat in his blood cranked up a notch. Taking a deep breath, he looked out at the setting sun, absently carding his fingers through Draco’s hair. "Believe what you want, Malfoy; I know the truth. You’re a softhearted romantic and you know it. Don’t worry though, I won’t tell a soul."

Draco’s eyes narrowed and with lightening reflexes honed by years of chasing after a snitch he was on top of Harry, pinning him down to the sand. "Malfoys do _not_ do romantic crap, Potter, it goes against our nature as dark wizards. Don’t think for a moment that this is anything more than me playacting and plotting to overthrow the boy who shagged when he’s weak and vulnerable," the blond growled menacingly before diving in to attack Harry’s mouth.

When he finally came up for air he smirked down at the dazed man beneath him. "Now that we’ve got that settled... wanna have pervy sex on the beach?" he asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"Maybe once you admit that it _isn’t_ playacting and plotting," Harry answered, regaining his composure but not trying to fight his way out from under Draco.

"If you _dare_ tell anyone..." Draco trailed off, mock-glaring at Harry before grinning like a fool. "Not that anyone would believe you if you told them. I mean really, me a softhearted romantic? Ha!" the blond laughed. "They’d lock you in St. Mungo’s for sure. But I’d be nice and arrange for conjugal visits so you could get shagged regularly. Aren’t I nice?"

"You’re a saint," Harry chuckled. "Though Gilderoy Lockhart’s still there, he might be worth a try..."

"You do and I’ll castrate _him_ ," Draco growled possessively. "No one touches you but me. No one! Got it?"

"Got it," Harry nodded, surprised and aroused by Draco’s sudden jealousy, of Lockhart of all people!

"Good, because we’re bonded by blood and magic which means you’re as good as my husband anyhow and I’m bloody well not sharing you with anyone. I’ve never played well with others; you should know that better than anyone, well except with you. I play very well with you," Draco grinned. "Now get naked so I can spit you on my cock and fuck you until you squeal!"

"Spit me on your... Fuck me till I...?" Harry stared at Draco incredulously, then started to laugh, finally collapsing back onto the sand, holding his sides, tears of hilarity running down his cheeks.

"Fine," Draco harrumphed, pushing up off of the other boy and getting to his feet. "I guess the romance is dead, isn’t it? I’m going for a swim," he sulked before stripping out of his shorts and running naked into the surf.

"Draco... Draco? Come on Malfoy, it was funny!" Harry hollered toward the blond’s back before collapsing back on the sand. "And if you burn your bum, don’t come running to me for an aloe charm!"

Watching Harry from the water, his nose and eyes above the surface, Draco ‘accioed his wand to him with a bit of wandless magic when Harry wasn’t looking and then, under water, muttered, ‘mobilicorpus’ while pointing at his lover, causing Harry’s body to stiffen and rise.

Standing up he floated Harry over the water near him with great glee and then released his lover and the charm before sending his wand flying back to bury itself under the pile of clothes on the beach. "Now _that_ is funny!" he giggled happily.

Harry stood up, shaking water from his hair and feeling around for his glasses which had gotten knocked off his face when he’d gone under the water. "Real funny, Malfoy," he growled, finally finding them and putting them back on, ignoring the gritty feel to the plastic frames.

"Oh, but it is, it is!" Draco guffawed, falling over in the water he was laughing so hard and hitting bottom before he came back up for air. "Harry Potter’s all wet! Literally! I love it!" he snickered and then squeaked and backpedaled as Harry made a dive for him.

"Better watch it or a fish might decide to snack on the Malfoy family jewels," Harry observed, catching Draco around the waist and tumbling him into the water again.

Spluttering in indignation, Draco growled and dove at Harry, enjoying the roughhousing and feeling himself becoming, unsurprisingly, aroused as he brushed constantly against his lover during their play. Finally giving into the urge he sealed his lips over the saltwater cool ones of Harry and feasted hungrily until he was forced to come up for air.

"You realize you have far too many clothes on, don’t you, Potter?" he gasped at last, grinding his erection against the Gryffindor’s thigh in obvious need.

"Well, you’re the one who tossed me in here without even a by your leave," Harry panted, winded by their play and aroused by the feel of Draco’s nude body sliding against his through his own clothes.

Managing to untangle himself from Draco for a moment, Harry skinned out of his bathing trunks and tossed them back toward shore, not caring if they made it to the sand or not. That done, he slid his arms around Draco’s waist and pulled him closer, their bodies aligning so that their erections slid against each other as they moved. "Mmm, want to feel you come like this," he murmured, closing his hands on Draco’s arse and grinding against him.

"Semantics," Draco groaned, his own hands going to cup Harry’s arse as his mouth smashed against the raven-haired boy’s. Sighing happily, Draco ground hard against Harry, wanting nothing more than to bring them both off. "Merlyn but you’re a hot piece of arse, Potter, thank Salazar you’re all mine," he managed to gasp out when the need for air made him break the kiss.

Spreading Harry’s cheeks wider, a finger began to stroke Harry’s hole and then gently slid inside all the while he continued to grind his cock against his lover’s, the wet slide of salt water making everything slower and much more voluptuous.

Harry moaned, his own fingers tightening on Draco’s arse, his lips finding the blond’s pulse and latching onto it so that he could leave a deep red mark in their wake.

Draco whimpered at the feel of Harry’s mouth and redoubled his thrusting against the Gryffindor’s cock while his finger began to pump in and out of Harry’s arse. Moaning continuously he felt his balls begin to draw up and the telltale signs of orgasm race through him. "Harry, Merlyn, gonna, fuck!" he bellowed as his cock jumped and began to send shot after shot of semen into the warm wet space between their bodies while his whole body stiffened and spasmed.

"Yes!" The sudden heated stream in the water against him took Harry over the edge as well, and he bucked back against Draco’s fingers, then forward, into his body, muffling his cries of completion against the Slytherin’s shoulder.

Sagging against his lover, Draco slowly removed his finger from Harry’s arse and caressed the other youth gently. "Maybe we should get out of here before we do something stupid like drown due to supreme bliss and total post-orgasmic relaxation," he chuckled. "Wanna apparate to the hotel room?"

"Gotta get our stuff," Harry sighed, not caring if he moved for a year at least.

Draco snorted. "You’re still such a muggle by times, Potter," he laughed, accioing his wand again and casting first a reduction spell and then a packing spell centered on the haversack he’d brought with him down to the beach. Levitating it over to him and then handing Harry his wand. "C’mon lazybones, back to the room before your fall over and drown and kill us both."

"Yes, Draco darling," Harry chuckled, quickly stepping back away from Draco and disapparating before the other teen could get him.

« Prat. Absolute, total prat. Why did I bind my life to his again?" Draco sighed and, glancing around, quickly disapparated after Harry, reappearing in the center of their hotel room.

Harry was reclining in the middle of the bed, both his glasses and his wand on the nightstand. "Come to bed, Malfoy," he murmured. "I’ll rub lotion on you after we wake up."

"Oooh that sounds kinky, why not rub it on me before we fall asleep?" Draco leered, waggling his eyebrows as he cast a quick drying charm and burrowed his way under the mosquito netting to finally make it onto the bed next to his lover.

"Because then we wouldn’t fall asleep," Harry answered wryly.

"Spoilsport," Draco chuckled but nonetheless snuggled up against Harry before suddenly bounding off the bed again and hurrying over to his luggage to rummage around in it.

Finding what he wanted, Draco managed to get back under the netting without removing one hand from behind his back and sat cross-legged on the bed next to Harry, looking down at him.

"I can’t believe I almost forgot this. And before you say anything I’m really not a hearts and flowers sort of person, despite my so-called romantic streak so I have no idea how to do this properly or anything. And another thing, if you tell a soul I’ll turn you into a mouse and feed you to Granger’s cat. I really, really will!

"Anyhow, this really isn’t how I ever expected my life to be because I expected to follow daddy along blindly, become a Death Eater, marry Parkinson and eventually produce an heir as obnoxious as I was and then either get killed by the Ministry or become even more like my father. It would seem fate had other plans for me though, and I’m not complaining because on the whole I like my life ever so much better now than I would have the other way.

"That said, Happy Birthday Harry Potter, and..." Draco took a deep breath and brought out a little jewel box holding a ring. A ring that had two carved figures, a lion and a serpent, wrapped around one another, "will you marry me?"

"Determined to drape me in jewels, Malfoy. Aren’t you?" Harry rasped, looking up from the ring to Draco’s too serious expression. "And what do you think the answer is? I died for you, you brought me back, I’d say that was a damn permanent relationship. This..." He took the ring and ran a finger over it, "will just show everyone what we already know for a fact."

"That’s just it, I want the world to know without a doubt that I plan on spending the rest of my life with you," Draco replied quickly. "I mean I know I’m not so great a catch, well I _am_ gorgeous and fabulously wealthy and have great homes in any number of countries but, I’m still a Death Eater’s brat and a Malfoy. Those aren’t any great shakes really. But if you’ll let me, I want to be better than I was and I want to make you proud of me, Harry," he finally admitted in a choked voice.

"Stupid git," Harry muttered, setting the ring down and gathering Draco into his arms, kissing his temple as he did so. "I am proud of you. Of who you are, who you’ve become, who you’ve helped me become. Besides," he tried to lighten the mood with a bit of teasing, "you could always become Draco Potter. I think it has a nice ring to it."

"Like Hell! I was thinking more along the lines of Harry Malfoy. That way no one will associate you with ‘the boy who lived’ you’ll be ‘that gorgeous Draco’s husband,’" the blond smirked, ignoring the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach as he went over Harry’s words again. Harry was proud. Of _him_ , Draco Malfoy, Slytherin git and all round bad egg. Damn that sounded nice.

"Oh no," Harry laughed, tackling Draco to the bed and sitting on him. " _You’ll_ be Draco Potter and that’s all there is to it!" He leaned in and blew a raspberry on the side of the blond’s neck.

"The hell I will!" Draco giggled, trying to squirm away. "Okay how about we compromise, I’ll be Potter-Malfoy and you can be Malfoy-Potter?" he suggested while trying to dive off the bed. "Or better yet you stay Potter and I stay Malfoy and we just shag a lot and shock the neighbors into thinking we’re shacking up?"

"That sounds good to me," Harry said agreeably. "I always wanted to be known as a deviant and have neighbors whisper about me behind my back, oh wait, they do all the time when I’m at the Dursleys."

"Oooh! I just had the most wicked idea, Harry!" Draco crowed. "Are there any houses for sale near your muggle relatives? I could buy it, we could set up house and really stick it to em before informing the lot of them that they’re too pathetic to actually live around and then we move away! Can we do it, please?"

Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head wildly. "No. Just... no. The last place I want to go on this earth is Privet Drive, even with you, even to ‘stick it to them’." In truth, he didn’t want Draco to see what he had lived with and through his first ten years and every summer since.

Draco pouted outrageously but gave in. After all Harry hadn’t said he couldn’t _send_ those nasty muggles anything which meant he could start playing evil tricks on them almost immediately. "Oh all right, we won’t move to Privet Drive, we’ll just live in Malfoy Manor and make my father spin in his grave."

"So long as he doesn’t decide to haunt us or anything," Harry said agreeably.

"Fuck, he bloody well better not or I swear I’ll hire an exorcist to get rid of him once and for all!" Draco groaned. "Although I’d be rather amused to see his reaction to the remodeled master bedroom and his witnessing us fornicating like minks in heat on the old heirloom bed!" the blond snickered.

Recalling the things Lucius Malfoy had done to him and his friends, and to Draco, Harry shook his head. "I’d as soon never see him again, thanks."

"Well yes, I would have to agree with that but it would still be fun to send him into his evil hereafter in the throws of an undead heart attack," Draco laughed. "But let’s stop talking about my father. By the way, you never did say yes, you know."

"Sorry. Yes."

"Good answer, prat!" Draco replied, tackling Harry to the bed. "Now, I don’t know about you but I’m wide awake and I think we need to consummate our engagement, don’t you?"

"I dunno, Draco, I’m sort of tired," Harry sighed before grinning at the look of outrage on the blond’s face.

"If you dare tell me you have a headache I swear I’m going to beat you bloody, Potter!" Draco growled, tumbling them both back on to the bed.

Harry laughed aloud before flipping them both over so that he was looking down at Draco. "No pains in my head, but I believe I’m feeling an ache lower in my body," he mused, arching his hips against Draco’s and feeling the other teen respond.

"Then I would strongly suggest you do something about relieving said ache," Draco gasped, arching up against Harry and wrapping his legs around the other man’s hips. "After all we wouldn’t want you to feel too much pain now would we?" the blond continued, writhing underneath his lover, no his _fiancé_ , with a definite glint in his eyes.

"Something like, as I believe you said earlier, ‘spitting you on my cock and making you squeal’?" Harry asked, grinning evilly.

"Funny, I recall it being the other way around but if you think you can make me ‘squeal’," Draco replied with a distasteful snort, "by all means give it your best shot. Personally I think you’re just jealous because it’s a proven fact that Slytherins are much more sexual creatures than you Gryffindors," he continued with a smirk.

"Um hmmm," Harry said, his eyebrows winging upward. Reaching for his glasses and wand, he cast a quick petrificus, backed up, and flipped Draco onto his stomach, his bent knees and spread legs canting his arse up into the air nicely.

Before setting his wand aside for the moment, he relaxed part of the spell, allowing Draco to speak, but nothing else. That done, he leaned in and ran his hands over the blond’s buttocks, admiring their taut curve before smacking first the left, then the right sharply, liking the way his palm print stood out in stark relief against the pale skin.

"OW! Bloody hell, Potter! What the devil do you think you’re doing?" Draco bellowed, not even able to jerk in reaction under Harry’s hand. "Owowowowowowowow! No one has ever _dared_ not even my parents, you are so gonna pay for this! When I get out of this petrificus I’m gonna show you just what a dark wizard can do!" the blond threatened without any true heat to his words.

Biting down on the pillow, he tried not to moan as Harry’s hand connected once more and the heat started to rise in his flesh, causing other parts of him to rise up as well.

"Whinge, whinge, whinge," Harry chuckled, continuing to spank Draco until the other boy’s arse was pink and he was whimpering continually into the pillow. "But damn, you’re hot when you whimper like that," he added, lowering himself to lick at the tender flesh between Draco’s legs, mouthing his testicles. ‘ Draco arched up against Harry’s tongue, his back bowing and the tendons in his neck stretching as far as the could go as he mewled and writhed underneath the other man. "Bastard, bloody bastard, gonna do wickedly evil things to you when I can think straight again, I swear it!" the blond threatened direly as he continued to squirm underneath the onslaught that was Harry.

"Who says you’re ever going to be able to think straight again?" Harry asked, blowing a stream of cool air on Draco’s wet balls and beginning to rim him, wanting the blond to feel as out of control as he did.

"Ha-rry!" Draco’s voice hitched and went up in pitch as he thrust his hips back against the wet tongue driving him rapidly mad with lust. "Oh Salazar, oh fuck, that’s, yes, mmm," the blond moaned as his hands kneaded the bed sheets catlike while his body rocked back and forth on his knees.

Draco’s silvery gray eyes were mere slits as he was barely able to keep them open. There was a high-pitched mewling coming from somewhere and he couldn’t seem to shut the sound out and then he realized that he was the one making the noise. How bloody embarrassing! And yet he couldn’t seem to stop.

Unable to resist any longer, Harry grabbed for the lube and slicked himself up. He took only a second to position himself, and then drove into Draco’s body, groaning at the tightness as his lover was barely stretched. "So bloody good," he rasped, pounding into Draco’s hot sheath, demanding everything from both of them.

"Harry!" Draco wailed, his back curving impossibly as he slammed himself back against his fiancé. "Oh Merlyn, so good, oh please, more!" Draco was barely aware that he sounded like a shameless tart begging for more but he didn’t care, this was Harry, _his_ Harry, taking him, loving him, owning and possessing him.

Digging his hands into the fabric of the bedding with one hand, he reached beneath himself and began to stroke his cock in time with Harry’s thrusts.

Harry growled and knocked Draco’s hand away from his erection. "No touching, love. Just from me, understand?" He leaned over Draco’s back and threaded his fingers through the other teen’s, holding them close as he continued thrusting, lost in a whirlwind of pleasure.

Whining soundlessly Draco’s fingers convulsed around Harry’s as his heels dug into the mattress and he forced himself back harder and harder. He was so close, one little touch would have sent him over the edge but Harry wanted... oh Morgana Harry _wanted_ and so Draco would give to him whatever the other man desired.

"Loveyouloveyouloveyou," the blond chanted mindlessly as he could feel his prostate pounded and the heat begin to burn its way through his body. He was so very close now, teetering on the edge, and all because Harry was fucking him. "Please, Harry," Draco begged shamelessly, not quite sure what he was begging for but needing to say the words.

"Yes, God, yes," Harry answered, pressing hungry, sucking kisses at the nape of Draco’s neck, feeling the other teen writhing and shuddering beneath him and knowing he was shaking too. "Love you, always."

"Oh Merlyn!" Draco wailed and arched as his cock erupted all over the mattress as the feel of Harry’s mouth on his flesh drove him over the edge. "Harry!"

Unable to speak, Harry could only cry out his pleasure as Draco clenched down around him, driving him to his own orgasm within moments. Keeping his fingers twined with Draco’s, he finally rolled to the side, bringing the other teen with him, and curled around Draco’s back, kissing his sweat-dampened neck. "I do love you."

"Bloody good thing considering you’re stuck with me for the length of your, therefore our lives. That and you just agreed to marry me and if you think I’m gonna let you renege on that you’ve got another thing coming!" Draco growled, bringing up on set of their combined hands to his lips and kissed the back of Harry’s hand.

"You’ll look fetching in white," Harry murmured, his eyes half-lidded as exhaustion and satiation took their toll.

"Correct me if I’m wrong, _love_ ," Draco fairly hissed the word. "But only virgins are allowed to wear white. I’m anything but as well you know! And if you dare suggest that I’ll be the one wearing the dress in the family you’ve got another thing coming! Wizarding Versace, tux, black or gray thank you very much!"

Harry laughed quietly, snuggling closer to Draco and nodding absently. "Whatever you want, love."

"Humph" Draco replied but nonetheless wrapped his arms tighter around Harry to make sure that his fiancé was well secured to his side and absently pulled the cover up over them. "At least you’ve got the right attitude. Whatever I want. I want you. All the time, for the rest of our lives... And a Wizarding Versace tux for my wedding."


End file.
